





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


Copyright No 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 






















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A LONELY LITTLE LADY 











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A Lonely Little Lady 


BY 

DOLF WYLLARDE 


WITH FIFTY DRAWINGS 


* 



l 


NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1897 

c 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED 




Copyright , 1897, 

By Dodd, Mead and Company. 


Slnforrsttg ^hcss: 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


-♦- 

Y PAGE 

“ He wrote something ON IT . . . AND gave it back 

to her with a slight bow ”. Frontispiece 

“Kissing her hand. Mamma would depart” ... 5 

It pleased her when the Brownie asked her the 

NAMES OF THE DIFFERENT TREES ”. 9 

"“He could sketch beautifully”. 13 

“The object of which she was fondest” .... 16 

p“ Into his whole and entire ear she confided her 

dreamiest fancies”.. 19 

“The Brownie was learning her lessons for the next 

day”.23 

“ She changed the black stockings and shoes” . . 26 

k “The coat was heavy”.31 

-“Brownie pushed the door open quietly and came in” 35 
* “ She wondered why that lady suddenly put an arm 

round her”...41 

“James appeared to bow the Duchess out” ... 45 

*“*1 HAD GONE TO RoSBOROUGH HOUSE TO SEE THE 

Duchess’”...59 

“ Brownie stood through endless fittings and 

consultations”.. . 73 

/<c She poured it out for him into his very own 

saucer”.75 

’“ Sir Charles stooped down and kissed her” ... 77 
“ * Don’t you wish you was going, Bella?’” ... 79 
“It was dull work, without even a book ” . . . 83 











viii List oi Illustrations 

PAGE 


Portia ..85 

Dresden China.86 

♦'Pierrot. 87 

A Viking.88 

“In the midst of which she stood”.89 

Red Riding Hood.90 

» “The polished floor flying under her light feet”. 91 

“ ‘ I couldn’t carry them all, you see ’ ” . . . . 95 

» “He wrote something on IT . . . and gave it back 

TO her with a slight bow”. 1 01 

“They were on the top stair”.105 

* “Archie guided her hand with a large knife” . . 123 

“A BIG EDITION OF Don QuiXOTE” ...... I 26 


“‘Why, Brownie,’ she said, with a curious quiver in 

HER GAY VOICE, ‘WHAT ARE ALL THE TEARS ABOUT?’ ” I 27 
•''“‘As LONG AS IT’S ONLY SAY AND NOT DU ’ ” . . . I 33 
•'“He WAS PLAYING IN THE MATCH”.I 36 

* “ She was watching the game with grave interest” 138 
i “ Enjoyed the quiet and the hush of the sacred place” 149 

“ Iy WAS VERY DIFFICULT TO AVOID TRIPPING OVER BeLLe’s 


train” .153 

“‘Here’s our good fairy’” ........ 157 

►'“•Some one threw a white slipper after them” . . 161 

V “Brownie fled headlong from the room” . . . 167 

►'“Her mother was singing”.168 

» “The Brownie ate her breakfast undisturbed” . . 173 

K“ ‘ Would you please tell me,’ said the Brownie, 

‘WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT?’”.I 75 

“There was a long silence”.179 

(/'“He caught sight of Nurse’s face”. „ 183 













A Lonely Little Lady 

¥ 


CHAPTER I 


^HE Brownie’s world consisted 
- of a limited circle of intimate ac¬ 
quaintances, beginning with Nurse 
— a tall, flat body, with a very white 
cap at the top, and endowed with 
power to take away the night-light and 
leave you in the dark — and ending 
with Papa, a man who lived in a study 
at the back of the house, and was oc¬ 
casionally helped into an overcoat by 
the footman, who called him Sir Charles, 
after which he went out of the front door. The 
Brownie sometimes wondered what he did outside 
the hall door, since he had no governess to decree 
that he should walk in a certain direction ; but she 
knew the footman better than Sir Charles, and there- 



i 













2 


A Lonely Little Lady 

fore her thoughts followed the latter into .the pantry 
more frequently than they did her father, whether 
he vanished out of the hall door or into the study. 

Between these two extremes in her sphere of inti¬ 
macy (she saw Nurse all day and every day, and 
sometimes a week passed without her coming across 
Sir Charles), there were a procession of other forms 
dwindling in importance as they receded from her 
knowledge. The servants were ranged behind Nurse, 
— Annie, the under-housemaid, who brought up 
most of the meals to the nursery ; the chef\ who 
clapped his fat hands at her and called her “ Petite ” 
when Nurse was not in hearing; Thomas Giles, the 
coachman, with whom she was familiar from the 
vantage-ground of the nursery window; James and 
Arnold, the footmen, and Martin, the butler; be¬ 
sides a host of women servants, who came and went 
until her little head became confused with them. 
Beyond the servants came Belle and Laura, her step¬ 
sisters, whom the Brownie classified thus : — 

“ Step-sisters — superior beings to oneself, and 
much more important. Grown up, dressed in silks 
and beautiful colours. A combination of the angels 
and fairy princesses.” 


3 


A Lonely Little Lady 

Belle was going to be married, — Nurse had dis¬ 
cussed it with Annie when she brought up the tray 
with the Brownie’s supper, — and Laura was ex¬ 
pected to be engaged very soon : perhaps he would 
come to the point at her sister’s wedding. The 
Brownie looked forward to the wedding as a strange 
event, which was to have a mysterious influence 
upon the family — rather like a magic spell. 

There were two step-brothers also, but they did 
not live in the house, and consequently their proper 
place was amongst the visitors. The shorter of the 
two sometimes wore a red coat and a sword ; his 
name was Archibald, and he was chiefly to be dis¬ 
tinguished by the fact that he always kissed her 
when they met — a circumstance which made the 
Brownie dread his visits. She disliked being kissed 
by men. The younger brother was so tall and thin 
that the Brownie had never satisfactorily got to the 
top of him. He patted her on the head — one 
degree better than the kissing—and spoke in a far- 
off tone that frightened her. Then there was a 
lady even more beautiful than the step-sisters, who 
was Mamma, and who generally was to be met 
coming in from a ride with two or three men vis- 





4 A Lonely Little Lady 

itors, or else floating out to the carriage with the 
step-sisters and more men visitors. And she also 
wore beautiful dresses, and sometimes came into the 
nursery and nodded to the Brownie, and asked 
Nurse if she had all she wanted, and if the Brownie 
had any frocks to wear, because she was to come 
down into the drawing-room at tea-time, and she 
was to look pretty and picturesque. And then 
Nurse would suggest the brown velvet, and Mamma 
would say, “H’m, what was that? Oh, the little 
Greenaway frock. No, she was tired of seeing the 
child in that.” “ The Liberty silk, then ? ” “ No, 

that was not fresh enough. Oh, well, Mamma was 
going shopping, and would see if she could get 
any ideas. Of course the child must be properly 
dressed — she hated ugly, awkward children. Good¬ 
bye, Brownie: I ’ll see if I can’t find something 
smart for you ! ” And, kissing her hand, Mamma 
would depart, leaving the Brownie to return to her, 
story-books or lessons with a heavier heart: she 
dreaded these visits to the nursery, because it always 
ended in her having to appear in the drawing-room, 
generally in a new frock, and she rather disliked 
clothes she had not worn before. 


A Lonely Little Lady 


The drawing-room was an 
endless vista of strange faces, 
bewildering in their number 
and unfamiliarity to the Brownie 
when Nurse had opened the 

%% t 

door for her and left her to 
enter alone. Half a dozen 
voices spoke to her one after 
the other. £C You know me , 

Brownie?” “Won’t you come 
and speak to me, dear? ” “Oh, 

Lady Lorraine, what a perfectly 
sweet frock ! and what a darling 

° “ KISSING HER HAND, 

she looks ! ” “ Ouite a little MAMMA WOULD DEPART.” 

picture, with that old-fashioned 
style, and her dear little grave face!” “ Brownie 
darling, do come here ! ” And then, before she 
could reply, as politeness prompted her in spite of 
her agonising shyness, a worse trouble befell her, and 
two or three black frock-coats loomed into view, 
the owners thereof bending down to her solicitously, 
while languid male voices asked, “ Miss Brownie, 
may n’t I get you some tea ? ” 

The Brownie’s real names were Hero Lallage 









































6 


A Lonely Little Lady 

Davanant St. John Lorraine, which was a long list 
for such a little person, but she was always called the 
Brownie. She was nearly eight years old, tall for 
her age, and very slight,'though not a thin, over¬ 
grown child by any means. She had a soft, curly 
head of brown hair, which fell round her face and 
on to her shoulders, and a pale face with large dark 
brown eyes, and brows and lashes of a lighter shade. 
The Brownie was convinced in her own mind that 
she was very ugly, — like one of the imps or elves in 
her fairy books, — and the compliments which were 
heaped upon her in the drawing-room were to be 
traced to her frocks in her own opinion. 

Beyond the inner circle, composed of the inmates 
of the house, the Brownie recognised various outer 
circles consisting of the most frequent visitors, whose 
faces and names she could generally remember. 
There was Lord Bay, who was going to marry Belle, 
and a certain Hon. Elliot Gifford, who would pro¬ 
bably propose to Laura soon, besides two or three 
others who were always beside Mamma, and held her 
cup or waited on her; and then the less frequent 
guests, whom she was in terror lest she should for¬ 
get and hurt their feelings ; and then the mere ac- 



7 


A Lonely Little Lady 

quaintances, whom it was hopeless trying to recognise 
again, and whom the Brownie classed very much with 
the unknown faces which passed her in the street,— 
glimpses of an outer world conveyed by endless 
processions of people at whom she gazed awestruck, 
as Miss Price, her governess, marched her along, 
very much after the style of a gaoler. 

Miss Price was a thin lady, with a plain, weather¬ 
beaten face, and no imagination. She disapproved 
of the Brownie spending so much time in reading 
fairy books ; but as Mamma sanctioned it, she 
merely shut her lips with an appearance of suffering 
at the sight of the well-worn volumes, and said, 
“Well, of course, my dear, as Lady Lorraine gives 
you the books you are at liberty to read them. But 
I think it a pity to fill your head with so much non¬ 
sense. Poetry, if you like, my dear: every young 
lady should read poetry ; it is a part of education, 
and a thorough knowledge of the standard authors 
is indispensable. But ” — and Miss Price sighed. 
Mamma only laughed when appealed to on the 
subject. “I like her to read about the fairies,— 
it gives her imagination,” she said. (The Brownie 
wondered how.) “ And then it is so pretty to hear 



8 


A Lonely Little Lady 

her talking about it. She was telling Colonel Howe 
about c Puss-cat-mew ’ yesterday, or some beautiful 
princess or other; and he asked her what she 
thought the lady was like, and she said, ‘ Oh, just 
like Mamma! ’ He came and told me afterwards, 
he was so delighted. She is much better off read¬ 
ing her fairy-tales, and dreaming over them, than 
making a noise and spoiling her clothes like most 
children, Miss Price.” 

So the Brownie was left to read Knatchbull- 
Hugessen and Grimm and Andrew Lang and Mary 
de Morgan in peace ; but in the largeness of her 
tender heart she stored up two things to remember 
— first, not to read or talk about fairies until Miss 
Price had snapped up her black bag and put on her 
bonnet, and departed until the next morning; and 
secondly, that Mamma liked her to be fond of her, 
and to talk of her to her guests, — obviously, as she 
had been pleased at the comparison to the Princess. 

The Brownie had a certain sober affection for 
Miss Price. She did not love her: it was difficult 
to love any one whose most effusive speech was, 
“ And now, my dear Hero, I should like to tell 
you that I am very pleased with your progress this 




“ IT PLEASED HER WHEN THE 
BROWNIE ASKED HER THE 
NAMES OF THE DIFFERENT 
TREES.” 


























A Lonely Little Lady 11 

term, and I think you try to do your best, which 
gives me much satisfaction,” — but she liked Miss 
Price and tried to show her liking in acceptable 
ways, by sticking steadily to her lessons, and 
only taking an interest in instructive subjects when 
they were out for a walk together. She had dis¬ 
covered that it really made Miss Price unhappy to 
see her looking (however vainly !) for fairy rings on 
the dried London grass in the Parks, but it pleased 
her when the Brownie asked the names of the dif¬ 
ferent trees; and in consequence, the Brownie, with 
an honest desire to do as she preferred, dutifully 
collected specimen leaves from the trees, and dried 
them, and learned their names, and talked about the 
different species with Miss Price, — though her 
whole soul grew sick of botany, and she felt she 
hated the kindly trees whose romance was all dried 
out of them, for her, by the science. 

' Before Miss Price the Brownie had had a resident 
governess. It was two years ago, but she still re¬ 
membered the merry, round-faced girl who had 
romped with her, and sung her songs, and put her 
to bed, and loved sweets and fairies as much as her 
pupil. Muriel Erne had been little more than a 



12 A Lonely Little Lady 

child herself when she came to teach the Brownie 
how to read and write and sew. She was hardly 
pretty, but she had the grace and joy of extreme 
youth. A little round face she had, and a mass of 
fair fluffy hair that would n’t keep tidy, and a high 
sweet voice with a laugh somewhere in it even when 
she was sad, and she cried sometimes, poor Muriel! 
Archibald was more at home in those days ; at least 
he seemed to the Brownie to be oftener in the 
house. He came into the schoolroom at times, and 
used to say he was going to do lessons, and draw on 
her slate. He could sketch beautifully, and he 
drew pictures of Miss Erne. But Muriel used to 
look unhappy and frightened, and ask him to go 
away in a hesitating manner, for she was very shy, 
— as shy as the Brownie. And he wouldn’t go, 
but used to sit and look at Muriel until she drooped 
her head and could n’t look at him ; and then the 
Brownie’s gentle spirit was roused at her friend 
being teased, and she became quite angry with 
Archie. It went on for six months, off and on, 
and then ‘for some quite plausible reason Muriel 
went away and never came back, and Nurse taught 
the Brownie until Miss Price was installed in 


1 3 


A Lonely Little Lady 

Muriel’s place. It was all quite quiet and pleasant, 
and nobody was blamed, and there was nothing 
further said; but, somehow, the Brownie always 
felt that in some curious fashion Archie had been 



the cause of her losing her friend, and she was glad 
that he never came into the nursery now, and was 
less often at the house. But Muriel Erne she never 
saw again. 

The Brownie had no playfellows, and never went 
to see other children, as “ it would make her rude 
and rough, and she would lose her pretty, old- 
fashioned ways,” said Mamma. She was not en¬ 
couraged to talk to the children she met at the 






!4 


A Lonely Little Lady 

dancing-class to which Miss Price accompanied her, 
either; and partly perhaps from the forbidding 
aspect of that lady, partly because of her own ex¬ 
treme quietness and reserve, she never did grow 
intimate with any of them. She thought about 
them a great deal, and noticed things in a way she 
would not have done had she been more associated 
with them. She knew which of them were friends, 
and stored up scraps of their conversation which 
she overheard, to think about; and she had her 
favourite partners for the dances, but as she never 
said so, they thought that she was dreamy and 
indifferent. 

The only* other opportunity which the Brownie 
had of mixing with other children was at the parties 
to which she was invited, and to which she invited 
them — or rather to which Lady Lorraine invited 
them in her name, the Brownie being a passive 
factor in the arrangements. At these ceremonies, 
— they were nothing else to the Brownie, for to her 
mind they consisted of a daintier frock than usual, 
with short sleeves and a low neck, being sent in the 
brougham all alone to a strange house, a glare of 
light, the unaccustomed sound of many children 


1 5 


A Lonely Little Lady 

laughing and talking, a rich supper, hundreds of 
eyes staring at her curiously, and the drive home 
again very much later than her usual bedtime, 
when she usually fell asleep on the way,— at these 
ceremonies, I say, there was generally a sprinkling 
of elder people, who came either to see the children 
— cc it was such a pretty sight ” — or else to “ help 
amuse the children, and start the dancing and 
games,” upon which occasions they generally 
danced with each other, or else picked out the most 
attractive amongst the little folks to play with. 
The Brownie could not only waltz perfectly, but 
her usual association with grown-up people rather 
than children drew her instinctively to this older 
portion of the guests. There were invariably two 
or three young men there, who would find out in 
some occult fashion that she could dance, and told 
each other ; and after the Brownie had waltzed with 
them, and talked to them in her serious grown-up 
fashion, she was allowed to return to the children 
no more. Even at supper she was usually carried 
off and set down amongst her elders, who amused 
themselves very much with her, and petted her to 
their hearts’ content. 


16 A Lonely Little Lady 


Once or twice a year the Brownie returned these 
civilities, as Sir Charles Lorraine’s daughter should, 
by Mamma sending out invitations for her to over 
a hundred children whose names she did not even 
know, and whom she failed to distinguish from 
each other. And then the great drawing-room was 
cleared for dancing, and there were fairy-lights in 
the conservatory, and a band, and a big supper, — 
all the paraphernalia of these other parties to which 
she went, in fact, except that she escaped the going 
alone in the brougham, or accompanied only by 
Nurse. But she had to stand at the door of the 
great empty room, with the polished floor stretch¬ 
ing away from her and reflecting endless 
lights, and shake hands with her guests 
as they came in, which was dreadful; 
and Mamma was somewhere in 
the background, and Laura and 
Belle too, but they were not 
to be appealed to, be¬ 
cause it was ridiculous 
for the Brownie to be 
a baby and too shy to 

THE OBJECT OF WHICH SHE WAS J J 

fondest.” receive her friends — 





























A Lonely Little Lady 17 

Heaven save the mark ! — and besides, Mamma had 
once openly said that she liked the picturesqueness 
of that tiny silk-clad figure, with its air of lonely 
dignity in the big room, the lights flashing over it 
from the curly brown head to the exquisite little 
slippers, and all the pomp and splendour of the great 
house as a background. So the Brownie choked 
down the lump in her throat, and greeted her guests 
on these terrible occasions with solemn sweetness. 
And no one knew that, as she stood there so 
quietly, she was trembling in every excitable nerve, 
and the hands which clung to her huge bouquet 
could hardly hold it still. She never thought of 
appealing to any one to come and help her, or at 
least not to stand quite so far off: that would have 
been babyish, and mamma would have been merrily 
satirical over her nervousness. She had a great 
desire to do as her beautiful mother wished, admir¬ 
ing her from the bottom of her heart with a child’s 
devotion. 

Papa never appeared on these occasions until 
supper-time : then he was generally to be seen eat¬ 
ing a solitary supper near the sideboard, in a hungry 
fashion, and speaking only to one or two of the 


i 8 A Lonely Little Lady 

grown-up people present. He was a tall, thin man, 
with hair which was quite grey, though still plentiful, 
and tired grey eyes. He embodied the Brownie’s 
idea of age. In her own mind she always depicted 
Time, and Saturn, and Father Christmas as just like 
her father. 

These were the Brownie’s pleasures and duties at 
eight years old. She lived a life quite self-contained 
and separate from the rest of the household, in her 
nurseries, and comings and goings from the drawing¬ 
room and the street. As far as she could, she loved 
whatever cared for her affection. Perhaps the ob¬ 
ject of which she was fondest was a large cat, which 
had originally belonged to the kitchen, but preferred 
to trot soberly upstairs to the nursery, where, as he 
was well behaved and Nurse was afraid of mice, he 
was welcome. Master Pinnock was his name, and 
he was an English-bred tom—the sort of cat you 
always see depicted in old-fashioned story books; 
the breed is growing rare now. He was a long, 
sinewy animal, with a close, thick coat, very short 
and rather rough to touch, in colour a grey and 
white tabby — that is to say, he had a saddle of 
greenish-grey largely striped with black, and four 


A Lonely Little Lady ig 

white legs, which looked as if he had on high white 
boots. Owing to a careless cook having spilt boil¬ 
ing fat on his head when he was a tiny kitten, one 
of his ears was burnt half away and curled up, giving 
him the appearance of a feline cow with a crumpled 
horn. He had a long white nose, very pink at the 
end, and a little pink mouth. His eyes were beau¬ 
tifully set, like a human 
being’s rather than a cat’s, 
with a very large black pupil 
inside the green iris ; when 
he looked up at you they 
almost spoke, and he seemed 
as if he had a soul which 
was rather troubled to find 
itself in that soft furry body. 

I am careful to describe 
Master Pinnock in detail, be¬ 
cause he was the Brownie’s 
only real friend and playmate. Into his whole and 
entire ear she confided her dreamiest fancies and as¬ 
pirations— against his thick sleek side she hid her 
face when the loneliness of existence and the yearn¬ 
ing for she knew not what drove her into a storm of 



INTO HIS WHOLE AND ENTIRE 
EAR SHE CONFIDED HER 
DREAMIEST FANCIES.” 





20 


A Lonely Little Lady 

sobs, which she trembled lest any one should hear — 
and much comfort did she derive from the weight 
of his eleven pounds resting against her breast when 
she strained her muscles to carry him about in her 
arms. 

Upon this animal the Brownie lavished her ca¬ 
resses and her deepest affection. Had she been 
asked whom she loved best in the world, she would 
have replied by rote, and with unconscious satire, 
“ Mamma and Papa” ; but, as a matter of fact, their 
sudden removal would not have left nearly such a 
blank in her life as that of the grey cat with the torn 


ear. 



CHAPTER II 


« <<? 




r j ILLIAM the Conqueror, 
io66 ; William the Second, 
^surnamed Rufus, 1087 ; 
William the Third, — no, Henry 

the First, 10-’ Oh, Pin dear, I 

can’t remember! ” 

The Brownie was learning her 
lessons for the next day, sitting with 
one leg tucked under her, and 
Master Pinnock curled up asleep in 
her lap, which he entirely filled, thus 
pinning her to the big armchair 
where she had settled herself. Nurse was sewing 
at the window on the farther side of the nursery. 
The room was so large that she was quite out of 
hearing of the Brownie’s crooning repetition of the 
Kings and their dates, with interpolated conversa¬ 
tion to Pinnock. “1100 (I wish I hadn’t had 















22 A Lonely Little Lady 

to look). Oh, I forgot, c surnamed Beauclerk. 
Stephen the Usurper, 1135’ — aren’t you com- 
ferble, Pin ? ” 

The grey cat stretched himself, yawned, showing 
a sudden pink cavity in his white fur, and twisted 
himself further over with his head completely hid¬ 
ing the lesson books, down which the Brownie was 
conscientiously moving a small hand, uncovering 
the dates as she said them. She gave a little laugh, 
and adapted the book to his new position, using his 
head to cover the dates instead of her own fingers. 

“ Henry the Second, — what was he surnamed ? 
I must look — Curtmantle. Oh dear! ” She 
heaved a little sigh, and set to her task again. 
“ ‘ Henry the Second, Curtmantle, 1154 —— ’ ” 
There came a knock at the door. Nurse put down 
her sewing and said, “ Come in,” and one of the 
housemaids appeared on the threshold. 

u Please, Nurse, m’lady says Miss Brownie is to 
go down to tea. And will you dress her carefully ? 
The Duchess of Rosborough is here, and wants to 
see her.” 

Nurse rose hurriedly. “ Come along, child,” 
she said, in the snip-snap way that the Brownie 





THE BROWNIE WAS LEARNING HER LESSONS FOR THE 

NEXT DAY.” 























































































































































































A Lonely Little Lady 25 

knew meant business. “ Did my lady say what 
frock she was to wear ? ” she asked. 

Yes, my lady had said the satin. 

The Brownie gave vent to a heavier sigh than 
she had over her lessons, and began to carefully 
unpack herself without causing an earthquake in 
her lap and so upsetting Pinnock. Her movement 
was necessarily slow, and Nurse was impatient. 
She crossed the room to the rescue, and was on the 
point of picking up the sleeping cat by the scruff 
of his neck with scant ceremony. “ Oh, please , 
Nurse ! ” exclaimed the Brownie, dropping her 
book, and throwing her arms round her friend. 

u Well, be quick, then ! ” Nurse said sharply. 
She picked up the lesson book while the Brownie 
deposited Master Pinnock carefully on the chair, in 
the place which her little body had made warm. 
Then she turned to Nurse and held out her hand, 
looking up with her soft, serious eyes in a question¬ 
ing fashion. Nurse did not stay to analyse expres¬ 
sions, however. She hurried her charge into the 
night nursery, and proceeded to array her in the 
prescribed frock, a garment fashioned something like 
a nightgown, of thick white satin, which reached 


26 A Lonely Little Lady 


almost to the Brownie’s feet, and hung in heavy 
folds from the embroidered yoke. 

“Nurse, who is the Duchess of—-something? 
I did n’t hear,” said the Brownie, as Nurse combed 
her curly head. 

“ She is a lady who is a friend of your Mamma’s,” 
was Nurse’s reply. “And she’s only just got to 
know her, and never been to the house before, so 
you must be very good and polite, to give her a 
nice impression, and let her see what a well-behaved 

X little girl you can be.” Then her 
tone of moral diction changed to 
one of more usual brusqueness — 

“ Dear me, I’ve for¬ 
gotten to change 
fr I 'A your shoes and 
stockings, 



and her 


€C 


SHE CHANGED THE BLACK STOCKINGS AND SHOES. ” 





























































A Lonely Little Lady 27 

ladyship so particular you shall wear everything to 
match ! Come along, and mind you don’t rumple 
that frock ! ” 

She lifted the Brownie and sat her on the bed, 
while she changed the black stockings and shoes with 
steel buckles for white satin slippers, embroidered 
to match her frock, and fine open-worked stock¬ 
ings, the child sitting listlessly as she was placed, 
with passive endurance of the whole business. 

The Brownie was busy wondering whether the 
Duchess would be like the one in “ Alice in Won¬ 
derland ” who was so fond of pepper, as Nurse took 
her hand and led her across the landing and down 
the broad shallow stairs. Half way down the flight 
she paused. 

cc There, you can run on by yourself,” she said. 
“ The drawing-room door is open, I can hear by 
the voices. You can just push it open alone, and 
I ’m busy.” 

She dropped her charge’s hand and went upstairs 
again, without even taking the trouble to glance 
behind her and see if she were obeyed. But the 
Brownie always did as she was told. She had 
neither precedent nor inclination to teach her other- 





28 


A Lonely Little Lady 

wise. She went down the rest of the flight slowly 
and rather carefully. The drawing-room door was 
open, as Nurse had said, but between her and it 
lay the big square hall, and a long corridor with 
lounges and stands of flowers and alcoves, to break 
the monotony of its straight lines. As the Brownie 
stepped down the last stair, she saw a man standing 
before the hall-table with his back to her. She 
thought it must be a visitor, but waited until he 
should turn round to see if she recognised him, 
before going forward. When his lace did become 
visible, however, she came to the conclusion, after 
a minute’s hesitation, — for she was used to having 
some one to prompt her on the subject, — that it 
was her father, and went to speak to him. 

The footman did not happen to be present, and 
Sir Charles appeared to be vaguely hunting for 
something in the bewildering drawers of a piece of 
furniture — half table, half sideboard, and all carved 
oak — before which he stood. There was a mirror 
beside it, and as he moved he happened to catch 
sight of a little white figure reflected there, and 
turned round abruptly. 

“ Oh, ah ! — it’s you, is it ? ” he said, with a faint 


A Lonely Little Lady 29 

smile. All the wrinkles in his face seemed to start 
into prominence as he did so. 

“ How do you do ? ” said the Brownie, with some 
uncertainty. She had a vague idea that “ Good 
morning ” would have been the more correct for¬ 
mula for the occasion : when Mamma came into the 
nursery for the first time in the day, she always 
bade her good morning, though it might be five 
o’clock in the afternoon. But, as it happened, she 
had not seen Sir Charles for the past week, and 
"H ow do you do ? ” was her natural salutation, as 
if to a guest. 

The smile lingered round Sir Charles’ lips, but 
he said, cc I am quite well, thank you,” with due 
gravity. “ It seems to me that you grow a good 
deal. How old are you ? ” 

“ I’m seven just now,” returned the Brownie. 
She was rather surprised at his ignorance on a sub¬ 
ject every one else seemed to know. “ But I’m 
going to be eight soon. I do so want to be eight. 
Do you think I ought n’t to ? ” she added earnestly, 
standing with one foot twisted round the other ankle 
in a favourite attitude of hers, and looking up at Sir 
Charles for his opinion. 


3° 


A Lonely Little Lady 

“Why shouldn’t you want to be eight?” he 
asked, looking rather astonished. “ Children always 
do grow. You could n’t stay the same age.” 

“ Well, you see,” said Brownie, puzzled in her 
turn to express her ideas (which, to say truth, were 
rather misty to herself), “ there are seven days in 
the week — and the world was made in the week. 
God did a good deal in seven days, did n’t He ? — 
and I thought perhaps He’d be annoyed if I wanted 
to be eight years old to do things in. I might be 
content with seven, I suppose.” 

Sir Charles stood and stared at her, as she spoke, 
in a vacant manner. Then he said : “ Well, of all 
the odd children ! That’s a very smart frock,” he 
broke off. “ Are you going to a party ? ” 

“ Oh no ; only Mamma is at home. And the 
Duchess is here. Do you know the Duchess ? ” 

“ If it is the Duchess of Rosborough, I have that 
pleasure slightly. But I know the Duke — her 
husband, you know—better.” 

“ I don’t think the Duke has come,” said 
the Brownie musingly. “ Mary did n’t say so. 
What is the Duchess like ? Does she like 


pepper ? ” 




THE COAT WAS HEAVY 


y y 























































































































































































































































A Lonely Little Lady 33 

“Pepper!” repeated Sir Charles,evidently amazed. 
££ Why should she ? ” 

cc Well, Alice’s Duchess did— Alice in Wonder¬ 
land, you know: surely you’ve read £ Alice in 
Wonderland ’ ! Why, even Laura and Belle have 
read that!” 

The Brownie’s shocked surprise at the neglect of 
his education seemed to amuse Sir Charles. 

££ I don’t believe I have,” he said cautiously; 
“ but if you recommend it, I will. Are you bound 

for the drawing-room ? Then I ’ll be off.” 

* 

“Yes,” said the Brownie, with a half-sigh. ££ I 
suppose you ’re not coming too ? ” she added, with 
a faint hope. £C Shall I help you on with your coat? 
James has gone away, I think.” 

££ I am afraid you could n’t reach, could you ? ” 
said Sir Charles. 

He smiled still more broadly as the Brownie 
reached up her hands for the overcoat, and the 
wrinkles gathered about his eyes like a network. 
The coat was heavy; the Brownie strained her arms 
to hold it, but she managed to raise it sufficiently for 
Sir Charles to get his arms in, and then he gave it a 
tug and a jerk, and it slipped on to his shoulders. 

3 


34 


A Lonely Little Lady 

“ Thank you,” he said, taking up his hat and 
turning again to the Brownie. “That was a great 
help. I don’t think I could have managed it alone.” 

“ No,” said the Brownie simply; “ I know James 
always has to put you in : like Nurse does me.” 

“ Oh — ah!” said Sir Charles, as if he had 
hardly regarded it in that light. “I wonder whether 
James thinks of himself as my nurse? — it never 
struck me before. Well, good-bye, —what’s your 
name, by the way? I’ve forgotten.” 

“ Brownie,” said the Brownie. It did not sur¬ 
prise her that he should forget her name after not 
knowing her age. She had never regarded herself 
as very important, only as a useful adjunct. 

Sir Charles disappeared behind the hall door as 
usual — the Brownie would have liked to ask him 
what he did outside, but she was afraid of being 
impolite—and his daughter turned away slowly 
and went down the corridor to the drawing-room. 

There was quite a buzz of voices as the Brownie 
pushed the door open quietly and came in. 
Mamma did not perceive her at once, but Belle 
turned round and said, “Oh, here is my little sister. 
Duchess. Brownie, come and be introduced.” 





















































































































































37 


A Lonely Little Lady 

The Brownie had stopped to speak to Lord Bay, 
who had caught hold of her as she passed, and as¬ 
serted that she had cut him in the Park that morning. 

“ I saw you there with that severe lady who 
chaperons you so well,” he said, teasingly. 

The Brownie did not understand the meaning of 
the word exactly, but she fancied that he wanted to 
make fun of her, and acknowledged the effort with 
a little smile. 

“ I didn’t see you,” she said, looking gravely 
into the young man’s laughing eyes. Lord Bay’s 
face was always represented in her memory by a 
smile and a brown moustache; she could not recol¬ 
lect more of it when he was not present, but she 
thought he had a hooked nose. 

Several people had ceased their conversation, 
and turned round to listen in evident expectation 
of being entertained. The Brownie’s heart began 
to beat faster. It always frightened her to hear the 
sudden cessation of sound which generally preceded 
her speeches, and the half-familiar faces round her 
danced before her eyes, a blur of amusement. 

“ I was going to take off my hat to you, but you 
would n’t look,” Lord Bay said. 


38 A Lonely Little Lady 

“ Perhaps if you took it off next time without 
waiting for me to bow, I should catch sight of you 
doing it!” suggested the Brownie. Her soft little 
voice sounded dreadfully clear to her own ears, 
and she heard the laugh which followed in hope¬ 
less wonder. 

“ She says he is to take off his hat another 
time without waiting for her to bow ! ” The whis¬ 
per went round the group like an echo. Why did 
they repeat her words and laugh ? She had said 
it in all good faith, with an honest effort to avoid 
being rude. There was nothing so terrible as little 
girls who were rude — or shy. It was ill-bred. 
To be ill-bred was the depth of degradation. The 
Brownie’s daily lessons came back upon her mind 
in bewildering confusion. She turned her serious 
brown eyes away from Lord Bay in search of a 
refuge, and saw Belle watching her with the same 
expression of amusement as was on all the other 
faces. But Belle had called her to be introduced to 
the Duchess; at least that important person was 
a woman, and not a young man. In the Brownie’s 
innermost conception of Heaven there were no 
young men. 


39 


A Lonely Little Lady 

She left Lord Bay and slipped her hand into 
Belle’s, who laughed and said, “Has Lionel finished 
his accusations, Brownie?” — Lionel being Lord 
Bay’s Christian name ; but, to the Brownie’s relief, 
she went on, without waiting for an answer, “ This 
is the Brownie, Duchess,” and led the Brownie up 
to a lady who was sitting in the middle of the room. 

The Duchess* was a stout woman, who wore 
handsome mantles and moved in an atmosphere of 
good-nature and prosperity. The Brownie looked 
straight up in her customary manner, and saw a 
broad plain face, without a single feature to stamp 
it as more aristocratic than Mrs. Turpin’s, the 
housekeeper, but with something in it that made 
her put her hand out willingly and come a step 
nearer of her own accord. There was kindliness 
beaming in the Duchess’s eyes, and her large mouth 
had a generous curve. 

“ How do you do ?” she said, in a pleasant voice 
that the Brownie liked. “ So you are Lady Lor¬ 
raine’s little girl ? Do you know, I fancied from 
her description of you that you were quite big! 
I expected you to be a much larger Brownie than 
you are.” 



40 


A Lonely Little Lady 

“ I don’t think I’m very big,” said the Brownie. 
“ But then I’m not eight yet.” 

cc No; well, that is n’t very much, is it? And I 
expect your sisters are too big to play with you, 
are n’t they ? Don’t you wish you had some little 
folks sometimes ? ” 

“ I don’t generally think about it,” said the 
Brownie candidly. “ You see, every one is always 
grown up, and I don’t know any children very well.” 

She was leaning against the Duchess’s knee by 
this time, with one hand absently stroking the fur 
on her cloak. She wondered why that lady sud¬ 
denly put an arm round her, and, looking up, 
wondered more at the expression in her eyes. But 
it was very restful : the Duchess did not laugh at 
her, or say things she could not understand, and the 
Brownie’s nerves grew quiet again from the strain 
Lord Bay had put upon them. 

“You must come and see me, will you?” said 
the Duchess. “ I have n’t any little girl of my own 
to play with you, but I have a lot of nephews and 
nieces.” 

“ I should like to come,” said the Brownie with 
sincerity; “and to see you,” she added, with a grace 



** SHE WONDERED WHY THAT LADY SUDDENLY PUT AN ARM 

ROUND HER.” 































































































43 


A Lonely Little Lady 

which was charming because she evidently meant it. 
“ You h ave n’t brought the Duke with you, have 
you P ” she asked after a moment, with interest. 

“ No, not to-day,” said the Duchess. “ He is 
very busy, and can’t go and visit people much.” 

“ I want to see him,” said the Brownie confi¬ 
dentially, “ because I think it would interest Papa. 
He knows the Duke.” 

“ You shall see him when you come to Ros- 
borough House. He is very fond of little girls.” 
The Duchess sighed, and stooped to kiss the 
Brownie. “ He would like to have one of his 
own,” she said. — “Good-bye, Lady Lorraine; I 
really must be going. I have stayed an uncon¬ 
scionable time for a first call, but I have been 
making friends with the Brownie. May she come 
and see meP I should so like to have her.” 

“ Thank you very much, Duchess,” said the 
Brownie’s mother. “ I am sure she would like it 
immensely.” 

“ Will you send her some afternoon, then ? Not 
my calling day, because I should see nothing of her. 
Would next Thursday do P As soon after lunch as 
you like.” 


44 


A Lonely Little Lady 

££ Thank you ; yes, it would do perfectly. But 
are you sure you want her all the afternoon ? Please 
don’t be bored with her,” said Mamma, laughing. 

<£ She will not bore me at all. I love children,” 
said the Duchess. 

££ And she is not noisy or tiresome,” said Mamma. 
££ You will find her quite a grown-up and companion¬ 
able little mortal.” 

The Duchess looked at the Brownie with another 
of those strange smiles — almost as if she were sorry. 
££ Then that is settled,” she said. <£ Good-bye again, 
Lady Lorraine.” 

“Good-bye,” said Mamma. “ Laura, dear! ” 

Laura rang the bell, and James appeared to bow 
the Duchess out. The Brownie caught sight of his 
powdered hair and long legs down the length of the 
corridor as the Duchess left the drawing-room. 
She was just at the door when another visitor was 
announced, who stood aside to let her pass. It was 
rather late for any one to be arriving now, and the 
Brownie looked with unconscious interest to see who 
it was. She had caught the name— Major Maude 
— and it was one she did not know. 

Her mother was standing behind her, with one 



A Lonely Little Lady 



hand on her shoulder, as she had been when the 
Duchess left. Somehow the Brownie had known by 
the way she did it that she was 
pleased, and liked the invitation for 
her to Rosborough House. She 
waited now for her mother to move 
forward to meet this last arrival; but 
the hand was not removed from her 
shoulder, — instead the pressure be¬ 
came suddenly heavier, until it was 
a spasmodic clasp as Major Maude 
came up the room. He was a tall, 
broad-shouldered man, with a dark 
face, which even at a first glance 
was undeniably handsome. He came 
threading his way slowly through the 
visitors and furniture, but half-way up the room he 
hesitated. Neither Belle nor Laura seemed to know 
him, — no one attempted to help his uncertainty,— 
all the Brownie’s instincts of courtesy were aroused. 
She turned in astonishment to her mother, and 
looked up at her with wondering eyes. There was 
a bright pink flush on Mamma’s face, and her eyes 
were flashing ; the Brownie thought how beautiful 



«< 


JAMES APPEARED 
TO BOW THE 
DUCHESS OUT.” 






















46 A Lonely Little Lady 

she was. She was looking straight at Major Maude, 
but still she did not stir, and he advanced again 
until he reached her. 

“ How do you do? ” she said then, in her usual 
musical voice. Mamma had such a sweet way of 
speaking, and such a pretty laugh. “ What a long 
time it seems since we met! ” 

“ It is nine years,” said Major Maude. “ I feel 
a good deal older. But you — you have not altered, 
Lallage.” 

Nine years ! The Brownie was eight years old, 
nearly, so that was before she was born. She re¬ 
garded Major Maude with interest. He was no 
older, not so old, indeed, as many of the men whom 
she saw constantly. When he knew Mamma they 
must have been quite young. The Brownie stood 
beside her mother and looked at him. He had 
thick black hair cut close to his head, and a big black 
moustache. His brows were very black, too, and 
his eyes too dark to distinguish their colour; his 
jaw was square, his forehead low and broad, his fea¬ 
tures massive, and his skin very bronzed from the 
edge of his collar to the middle of his forehead, where 
there was a line as if he had worn a cap, and the skin 


47 


A Lonely Little Lady 

above it was comparatively pale. The Brownie ad¬ 
mired him silently, with intervals of admiring 
Mamma, too, whose lovely flush kept on coming 
and going, and her eyes sparkling with a new bril¬ 
liance. And these two, who had not met for nine 
years, talked on over her head. 

“ I thought you were in India,” said Mamma. 

“ I am invalided home — my time was nearly 

yy 

up. 

“ You have got your majority, I notice.” 

“You are quick to notice changes—Lady Lor¬ 
raine.” 

“ I cannot return the compliment, Major Maude. 
You said I had not altered.” 

“You have not — outwardly.” 

“Nonsense. I am nine years older; I have been 
married all that time, too. I have quite a large 
daughter. You must see her; then you will realise 
the difference. Brownie ! ” 

The Brownie stepped forward and stood be¬ 
tween them. There was a little mocking smile 
on Mamma’s lips as Major Maude looked down 

“ Brownie, I am going to give Major Maude 




48 A Lonely Little Lady 

some tea,” she said. “ Stay and talk to him while 
I get it.” 

She moved away, the sweep of her gown over the 
polished floor giving her progress an imperial air of 
its own. Major Maude sat down and drew the 
Brownie towards him. He was very strong — she 
could feel that through the gentleness of the touch 
— and the breadth of his chest struck the Brownie 
afresh as she stood between his knees where he had 
placed her. He was looking at her critically when 
Mamma came back with a cup of tea. 

“ I have done you the honour of bringing it to 
you myself,” she said, placing it beside him, “be¬ 
cause you are an old friend. Well, what do you 
think of her ? She is not much like me, is she ? ” 

“ She is too fair, but she has your eyes,” he said 
briefly. A little pleased flush stole into Brownie’s 
face : she had never thought that her eyes were like 
Mamma’s. 

“ Is n’t she a quaint little figure ? ” said Mamma 
lightly. “ I do so enjoy choosing her frocks. It 
is like dressing a big doll.” 

cc It would be. But — you to have a child ! ” 

“ Why ? Am I so very unfitted, Rorie ? ” 




49 


A Lonely Little Lady 


Mamma’s voice was very low and soft then. 

“You are — yourself, Lallage.” 

Major Maude had released the Brownie and 
stood up. They looked at each other again over 
her head. 

“ I must introduce you to my step-daughters,” 
Mamma said suddenly, and rather hastily. 

“ Do you get on with them ? ” he asked, with 
something — was it mockery ? : — in his voice. 

“ Perfectly. At first, you see, they were girls at 
school; but they always came home for the holi¬ 
days, and they did me the kindness to adore me.” 

“ So you forgave them their existence.” 

“ And when they grew up I made them com¬ 
panions. It is so vulgar to be jealous of one’s 
step-daughters. Besides, we never interfered with 
each other, and they were a success from the first. 
Belle is engaged to Lord Bay, and Laura is on the 
verge of being engaged to another eligible. Don’t 
lose your heart to either of them, please.” 

“ Supposing I have no heart to lose ? ” 

“ Are you married, Rorie ? ” 

“No.” 


“ Engaged ? ” 


4 



5° 


A Lonely Little Lady 

“ Lallage, don’t try me too far.” 

There came a pause. The Brownie felt as she 
did before a thunder-storm, and trembled without 
knowing why. Then Mamma spoke very quietly. 

“ Rorie, if we are to be friends you must remem¬ 
ber that I am Lady Lorraine.” 

“ If you think there is danger of my forget¬ 
ting it, you have but to give my name to your 
butler as one of those to whom you are not at 
home.” 

Mamma tapped her feet against the fender. The 
Brownie unconsciously watched the beading on her 
slipper catch the firelight. 

“ Why cannot we be friends ? ” she said at last. 
“ There is no reason why we should not be. We 
are older and wiser by nine years. Let us enjoy 
the present. Allusions to the past would be im¬ 
possible between us.” 

“ Then perhaps I had better not come here.” 

“ Perhaps— I want you to come here.” 

It was as Greek to the Brownie ; but her instinct 
recognised a dangerous atmosphere. She waited 
for Major Maude’s reply with strained senses. 

“ Ah, Lallage, have it your own way. I am to 


A Lonely Little Lady 51 

meet you on a new footing— is that it? So be it: 
you have always decreed the impossible. But I 
warn you — ” 

“ And now come and be introduced to Belle,” 
said Mamma, and there was a laugh in her voice. 
“ Belle, this is one of my oldest friends, — Major 
Maude, Miss Lorraine. — Is the Brownie’s tea 
waiting, Nurse ? ” for Nurse had made her appear¬ 
ance, as she usually did near seven o’clock, with a 
deprecatory air. “Very well; but I’m afraid she 
won’t eat any more. The men will give her so 
many sweet biscuits. Say good-bye to Major 
Maude, Brownie.” The Brownie glanced at her, 
caught a hint by instinct (for Mamma did not even 
smile), and lifted her face to be kissed. It was an 
unusual honour, though Major Maude did not 
know it. 



CHAPTER III 



mas house ” she 


OSBOROUGH 
House was large 
and square, with an 
air of Early-Vic- 
torian furniture and 
solid comfort about it. 
When the Brownie first 
made its acquaintance 
she recognised its lack of 
taste under the stigma that 
it was not nearly as pretty 
as her own home, — “ Mam- 
called it, with unconscious 


significance. Perhaps having no children had 
kept the Duke and Duchess old-fashioned in 
taste, but as a fact they preferred the familiar 
ugliness around them to having their house done 
up in the modern style with ancient furniture. 
They were extravagantly kind to the Brownie, 
whom they petted and spoiled to their hearts’ 


53 


A Lonely Little Lady 

content, but it was a kind of spoiling to which 
the child had never been accustomed, and which 
she appreciated accordingly. 

The Duke was a big, florid man, with a rich, full 
voice which rang like a deep-toned bell; he was 
rather fat, and he wore rough tweed of a startling 
plaid pattern whenever respectability did not force 
him into a black coat. His collars always looked 
whiter than any one else’s in contrast to his red neck, 
and his large ties were generally very light and clean. 

The Brownie clung a little tighter to the Duch¬ 
ess’s hand on the first occasion when she was led 
into the ducal presence, and took her courage in 
both hands to go forward and speak to him. Oh 
that “going forward” ! How she dreaded it, and 
how paralysed her limbs felt, until her feet seemed 
weighted with lead ! 

“Th is is the little girl I told you about, Tom,” 
said the Duchess, in her pleasant voice. She clasped 
the little hand sympathetically, and walked with the 
Brownie up to the deep arm-chair in which the 
Duke’s portly figure was reposing. 

“ Eh ? What ? Why, bless my soul ! So this 
is Sir Charles Lorraine’s little daughter, is it ? ” 


54 


A Lonely Little Lady 

He threw down the paper, and his blue eyes lighted 
up with a very friendly smile. (After all, a Duke 
is a human being, thought the Brownie, — and not a 
king, so he can’t order people’s heads to be chopped 
off.) u What a very grave little lady ! Supposing 
you come and sit on my knee, my dear. I’m an 
old gentleman, and may be allowed that privilege.” 

It was the Duchess who lifted the Brownie on 
to her husband’s knee, but the child sat there very 
contentedly. 

“ There ! I thought you could n’t be going to be 
afraid of me ! ” he said. 

“ I don’t think I am ever afraid of people,” said 
the Brownie thoughtfully. “ I can’t be, you see, 
because I always have to talk to them. But I 
never saw a Duke before.” 

“ Oh! ” said the Duke, with a twinkle in his 
eyes, “ and now you do see one, he is very like 
other people, eh ? ” 

“ Well, I suppose you are the same as other 
people, are n’t you ? ” said the Brownie, puzzled. 
“ I did n’t think you would be different yourself 
exactly, only I could n’t remember if I had to go 
out of your presence backwards.” 


55 


A Lonely Little Lady 

The Duke burst into a hearty laugh, and after a 
second the Brownie joined in. When the Duchess 
returned (she had gone away to consult the house¬ 
keeper about a certain jam for tea), she found them 
conversing happily, the Brownie having examined 
her new friend’s watch, and asked the meaning of 
the seal hanging to the chain. She was busy trying 
to get the motto under the crest into her head — 
“ Flecti, non frangi,” — and gravely demanded the 
translation. 

“Well, it’s the motto of the family,” said his 
Grace. “ It means c Bent, not broken.’ ” 

The Brownie knit her brows. “ How could you 
be broken ? ” she asked. “ Does it mean your legs 
and arms ? ” 

“It’s a kind of parable, Brownie,” said the 
Duchess, coming to the rescue. “It means some¬ 
thing hidden which it only hints.” 

“ Like the Sower ? ” said the Brownie with inter¬ 
est. The Sower was her favourite among the Par¬ 
ables in the Bible, chiefly on account of the hymn 
“ A sower went forth sowing,” which she loved 
with all the intensity of a poet’s nature. 


“Yes — one thing shown by another,” said the 




56 A Lonely Little Lady 

Duch ess. “ £ Bent, not broken,’ means that we ” 
(she always identified herself with her husband) 
“ may be persuaded, but not forced to do a thing. 
And it also means that, though fortune may go 
against us, we never give up hope, we have courage 
to the end.” She laid her hand on her husband’s 
shoulder, and a glance passed between them which 
beautified the two plain elderly faces with a sym¬ 
pathy to which the Brownie was a stranger. The 
child, moral orphan that she was, looked from one 
to the other as she sat on the Duke’s knee, and 
wondered at that unfamiliar flash between husband 

and wife which spoke of perfect understanding and 
confidence. 

“ £ Bent— not broken,’ ” she repeated slowly, and 
then “ £ Courage — and hope.’ I wish it were my 
motto ! Have we a motto ? Papa and Mamma as 
well, I mean.” 

“Why, of course,” said the Duke cheerfully. 
“ Get Debrett, Mary, and see what the Brownie’s 
motto is. I have forgotten.” 

Debrett proved interesting, for the Brownie found 
all the names of her innermost circle there set forth 
in full — “ Charles Edward Lorraine,” that was 



A Lonely Little Lady 57 

Papa, and later the Brownie’s own name, or rather 
list of names, which awed her considerably. 

“ I don’t like the crest as well as yours,” she said, 
regarding the clenched hand on her father’s shield 
with disfavour. “Your crooked tree is much 
nicer.” For so she described the heraldic device 
of the Dukes of Rosborough, which represents a 
sturdy branch curved gracefully towards the left — 
“ bent, not broken.” 

“ Why have we got a fist, and what is the 
motto ? ” 

The motto was in English, “ I have and hold.” 
It displeased the last daughter of the Lorraines. 

“ I think it’s horrid,” she said, pushing away 
the book with indignation. “ It sounds as if you 
had grabbed something.” 

“ And meant to stick to it,” added the Duke, 
laughing. 

“It’s like Pinnock with a mouse,” said the 
Brownie. 

“Who is Pinnock?” asked the Duke. 

Thereat followed an explanation, and a detailed 
account of the grey cat’s virtues, which lasted until 
tea; soon after which the carriage arrived for 


58 A Lonely Little Lady 

Miss Lorraine, and she departed, after hugging her 
new friends, feeling quite sorry to go, for no one 
had ever been so interested in the things that made 
her small world, and she had chatted happily to her 
host and hostess without nervousness or constraint. 
Usually the Brownie had to talk to people about 
what interested them, not her, and they chose diffi¬ 
cult subjects in order to get her small ideas thereon 
and then laugh. But the Duke had really listened 
to her accounts of Pinnock’s hunting feats with 
interest, and the Duchess had encouraged her to 
give her impressions of the children at the dancing 
class, and in return had told her of the tricks her 
nieces and nephews played when they stopped with 
her, both at Rosborough House and Coombe 
Weald, the great estate in the country. “They 
were a merry, noisy crew,” said the Duchess, 
laughing; “the boys were dreadful pickles, and the 
girls were nearly as bad.” But she seemed to like 
them none the less because they romped and made 
a noise; and the Duke’s highest recommendation 
was for a little grand-nephew named Ethelred, — 
“ Silly name for a boy,” said the Duke sturdily ; 
“ tempting the others to call him Ethel, only he 




*< * I HAD GONE TO ROSBOROUGH HOUSE TO SEE THE DUCHESS. 



















































































































































A Lonely Little Lady 61 

was too manly to stand it,” — because this ten-year- 
old hero was just the pluckiest little chap of the lot, 
never knew when he was beaten, and had sharp wits 
to boot. “ And yet,” added his Grace, “ he’s a 
regular boy, and loves games like a puppy. He 
has no modern mawkishness about him. I ’m 
dead against boys putting on airs and pretending 
to be men ! ” 

The Brownie thought it must be a good and for¬ 
tunate thing to be related to a duke and stay at 
Coombe Weald. She jumped into the carriage glad 
and merry, and looked forward joyfully to her next 
visit at Rosborough House. Only when she stood 
once more in the hall at her own home, the elation 
died out of her little figure, and the sparkle out of 
her dreamy brown eyes. She was once more the 
quiet, self-possessed little lady who was dressed and 
undressed “ like a big doll”; and when Mamma 
chancing to sweep downstairs on her way to the 
drawing-room, paused to smile and ask her how she 
had enjoyed herself, she answered with her usual 
seriousness: “ Very much. I saw the Duke, and 
they asked me to go again next Tuesday, if I may.” 

Mamma nodded, smiled, and passed on. She 


62 


A Lonely Little Lady 

looked pleased. The Brownie, turning to follow 
Nurse upstairs, suddenly encountered the unexpected 
appearance of Sir Charles in evening dress, also on 
his way to dinner. 

“ Oh ! ” he said, stopping short, and looking at 
the Brownie with the same untranslatable expression 
as before ; “ so there you are. Where were you this 
afternoon ? ” 

The Brownie stopped too on the lowest stair, 
leaving Nurse to proceed by herself. 

“ I had gone to Rosborough House to see the 
Duchess, — and the Duke, ” she added, as a point 
of further interest for him. 

Sir Charles rubbed his chin meditatively. 

“ There was no one to help me on with my coat,” 
he remarked, with a faint smile somewhere back in 
his weary eyes. 

“ Oh, I am sorry ! ” said the Brownie. “ Where 
was James ? ” 

“ I sent James away. I thought perhaps the 
fairies would come to my rescue again.” 

The Brownie did not quite understand what he 
meant, but her instinct saw enough to help her out. 

£C I would have been there if I had known,” she 



A Lonely Little Lady 63 

said. “ I think I could have done it. What time 
did you go out?” 

“ About five o’clock.” 

“ I ’ll be there to-morrow, if that will do, — at 
least, I think I can. I generally go down to the 
drawing-room, you know.” 

' It was plain to her mind that Sir Charles pre¬ 
ferred her to help him to the footman, — why, she 
neither knew nor asked herself. The giving pleas¬ 
ure to some one else was a necessity to the Brownie, 
if it were in her power. It was enough for her to 
be sure that it would give Sir Charles pleasure to 
see her at five o’clock to-morrow to make her wish 
to contrive it. 

“ M iss Brownie ! ” called Nurse from somewhere 
up the house ; and then, catching sight of a grey 
head disappearing down the passage, she changed it 
to a more suitable appellation, <£ Miss ’Ero ! ” — to 
which the Brownie replied, “Yes, Nurse; I’m 
coming,” and followed thoughtfully, turning over 
ways and means in her mind. 

Nurse was surprised and a little relieved the next 
afternoon, when, on her way to the drawing-room 
with the Brownie in charge, the child stopped her at 
the head of the stairs. 





64 A Lonely Little Lady 

“ I can go alone, Nurse,” she said, gently but 
firmly. “ You need n’t trouble to come any further, 
really.” 

Nurse’s tea was growing cold upon the tray up¬ 
stairs. It had appeared simultaneously with the 
order for the Brownie’s appearance in the drawing¬ 
room. She let go the small hand with inward satis¬ 
faction and outward reluctance. 

“ Well, to be sure, you ’re not a baby now. But 
be sure and go straight there, Miss Brownie; and 
whatever you do, don’t muss your frock.” 

It was green velvet to-day, and the Brownie looked 
more like an elf than ever. She nodded gravely, 
put her small hand on the wide top of the banisters, 
and went slowly downstairs. Nurse gave one glance 
to see that she was progressing quietly, and, without 
waiting to see her any farther, hurried back to her tea. 

The Brownie went down to the foot of the stairs, 
and then she hesitated. It was just five o’clock — 
she had ascertained that before she left the nursery ; 
but Sir Charles was not there, and she could not 
wait. Increasing anxiety was beginning to wrinkle 
up her smooth forehead, when she heard a door shut 
in her rear, and a man’s voice speaking. 


A Lonely Little Lady 



cc You need n’t wait, James,” it said. 

The Brownie’s face cleared. She waited until 
Sir Charles reached the centre of the hall, and then 
ran across to him. 

<c I can help you to-day,” she said. 

He put his heavy coat into her tiny hands ; but 
when the Brownie had assisted him as before, and 
he had shaken himself into it, he seemed in no par¬ 
ticular hurry. 

“ So you went to Rosborough House,” he said. 
“ How did you like the Duke ? ” 

“ Very much,” said the Brownie, emphatically. 
c< What a pity he has no children ! ” 

Sir Charles stared at the small figure before him 
in a larger surprise than ever. 

“ Of course it is a misfortune for a man,” he said. 
“ Still, there’s his nephew to inherit, you know, 
besides a younger brother.” Then, something in 
the Brownie’s face seeming to strike him, he said, 
“Was that why you were sorry?” 

“ No, I don’t think so,” she replied. <c I only 
meant that if he had a — a little girl, he would be 
so fond of her, you know, and she would be so 
happy.” 


5 


66 


A Lonely Little Lady 

A deep sigh came from the Brownie’s very heart 
at the memory of the Duchess’s voice and touch, 
and she thought of the Duke’s kindly, simple in¬ 
terest as he listened to her. 

Sir Charles had turned away from her, and was 
hunting for something in the pocket of his coat. 
It took a long time to find, and when he turned 
round again there seemed to be more wrinkles than 
usual in his face. 

“ It must be very nice to be a Duke,” said the 
Brownie, to continue the conversation. 

“ Yes,” said Sir Charles absently. 

“Could you be a Duke?” she asked, twining 
one foot round the other in her favourite attitude. 

“ N—no,” said Sir Charles ; “ but I could be a 
peer.” A dull flush rose to his face, and his eyes 
grew keen. “ Did your mother tell you to ask 
me?” he said, so abruptly and sharply that the 
child started. 

“Mamma!” she repeated, in a dazed fashion. 

“ Oh no ! she does n’t know that I ever speak to 
you. She never says anything about you at all.” 

The flush died away from her father’s face, and 
left him curiously white. He began to seek for an 


A Lonely Little Lady 



elusive handkerchief again, muttering broken sen¬ 
tences which perplexed the Brownie. “ She might 
then — I suppose I should be more worth while — 
Birthday Honours, or after the Session—After 
a minute he seemed to remember her, and turned 
round again. 

“I’ve got ‘ Alice in Wonderland,’” he said. 
The Brownie was just about to ask how he liked 
it, when the door-bell rang. Sir Charles hastily 
picked up his hat and disappeared studywards, and 
his daughter ran down the corridor to the drawing¬ 
room. 

There were the usual crowd of callers ; but the 
Brownie eluded her would-be captors and made her 
way to Major Maude, whom she perceived as she 
entered. He was taller than most of the men 
present, and his dark head towered into view over 
the girl to whom he was talking. He did not see 
the Brownie until she offered him her hand, his 
companion’s attention having been claimed by some 
one else. 

“ Well, my little friend,” he said, lifting her into 
his arms, “ where were you all yesterday after¬ 
noon ? ” and he sat down with her on his knee. 


68 


A Lonely Little Lady 

Every one seemed desirous of knowing that; 
but the Brownie, sure of her own unimportance, 
entered it to the account of the Duke’s celebrity. 
She began telling Major Maude about her visit: 
not the real valuable part of it to her, the atmos¬ 
phere of home and love which had shone upon her 
like the sun on a plant hitherto kept in the dark ; 
but the little sketchy parts, the house, and the 
fact that the Duke could not leave town when he 
wished because of Parliament, all of which she de¬ 
tailed gravely, guided by the amused smile in his 
eyes. Mamma joined them after a few minutes. 

“ Still devoted to the Brownie ? ” she asked, with 
that pretty colour in her face which the Brownie 
was beginning to associate with Major Maude. 
“ Has she invited you to her dance ? ” 

“ No, not yet. Are you going to ask me, 
Brownie ? ” 

“ I should like to, very much. When is it to 
be, Mamma ? ” said the Brownie gently, but her 
heart gave a great throb of fear. A dance ! That 
meant one of those evenings of torture when she 
played hostess. 

C£ Next month, when your birthday comes. The 


A Lonely Little Lady 



invitations went out yesterday. We must give 
your guests due notice, for they are sure to have 
engagements/’ said Mamma, laughing. “ It is to 
be fancy dress.” 

“Will you come in uniform?” asked the Brownie, 
turning to Major Maude. “ Please do : I should 
so like to see you.” 

Mamma’s eyes and the Major’s met. The 
Brownie saw the glance pass over her head as she 
sat on his knee. 

“ Will you come in uniform ? ” Mamma repeated 
in a lower voice. “ How many years is it since I 
saw you in uniform, Rorie ? ” 

The Brownie heard the big breath that he drew 
in between his teeth, and felt his chest fall and rise. 
She had an indefinable feeling that danger followed 
when Mamma dropped her voice. 

“Do you remember the Review?” Mamma 
went on. 

“ Remember! . . . Lallage, you should have 
been a Chinese rather than an English woman.” 

“Why? ” 

“ They are the finest torturers in the world.” 

The Brownie heard her mother try to laugh — a 


7° 


A Lonely Little Lady 

laugh that ended in a strange, rising sigh. She 
turned away for a moment. When she spoke 
again it was quite in her usual tone. 

“ I think a children’s fancy dress ball the pretti¬ 
est sight in the world,” she said. “ The Brownie 
always has a sprinkling of older people at her parties. 
They will come. We mean even the grown-ups to 
wear fancy dress on this occasion, but of course 
dominos are allowed. The Brownie is going to 
appear as the Brownie. Such a pretty dress ! I 
have been designing it—brown velvet cut into the 
shape of leaves at the edge of the skirt, and a tiny 
mouseskin cap, and such delightful downy wings ! 
She is going to carry a hazel wand with an electric- 
light star, to look like a will-o’-the-wisp.” 

The Brownie heard the stream of talk flow on 
with vague comprehension. She took little or no 
interest, for she could think of nothing but the 
heavy throbbing of Major’s Maude’s heart as she 
leaned back against his breast. She was sure he 
was in pain, and she did not know how to help him. 
She dared not ask either, and felt as helpless as the 
day that Pinnock hurt his paw and came limping 
in and looking at her with agonised eyes which all 



A Lonely Little Lady 7 1 

but spoke. As long as Mamma sat there talking 
Major Maude listened in a terrible, weary silence, 
and the Brownie quivered in sympathy. He re¬ 
mained after many of the visitors had gone, and she 
hovered about him, feeling that there was some¬ 
thing he wanted and could not express. When he 
went, Mamma bade him good-bye in the same light, 
indifferent tone, and the Brownie saw his eyes burn 
and blaze as he turned away. The remembrance of 
his trouble blotted out even her own, and not until 
she had got back to her own quarters did she have 
time to brood over the ordeal which awaited her 
next month. 



CHAPTER IV 

HE following weeks were an 
endless succession of “ try- 
ings on ” and <c dress rehear¬ 
sals ” to the Brownie. First, the mouseskin cap, 
executed after Lady Lorraine’s design, was too 
clumsy ; then the wings were far too large — “ they 
would get in the way when she waltzed, and the men 
would vote them a nuisance ” — not the boys, mark 
you ; the Brownie generally danced with some one 
twice her height for two-thirds of the evening. This 
remedied, the brown velvet garment in which she 
was to appear was a thought too long. The Brownie 
stood through endless fittings and consultations —- 
a patient, uninterested little model, whose drooping 
mouth and hopeless eyes passed unnoticed as she 
went through in fancy the great occasion when she 
was to figure in all this carefully schemed costume. 

There were intervals of sunshine, too, in these 
weeks—visits to Rosborough House, during which 












“ BROWNIE STOOD THROUGH ENDLESS FITTINGS AND CONSULTATIONS. 


SV 

















A Lonely Little Lady 75 


the Brownie learned to laugh, and played in a subdued 
imitation of those fortunate nieces and nephews 
about whom she was never tired of hearing. The 
Duke’s knee was her throne, and was always ready 
for her, and into the Duchess’s ear she poured many 
a small hope and trouble hitherto confided only to 
Master Pinnock. Not that she neglected the grey 
cat because she had found human sympathy: the 
Brownie, never forgot old friends. Owing to a 
delightful suggestion of the Duchess’s, they went on 
a shopping expedition together, and bought a large 
blue-and-white saucer, which the Brownie trium¬ 
phantly carried home and p 


her feline friend ; and she 
was sure he had never en¬ 
joyed his milk so much ac 


on the great oc¬ 
casion when she 
poured it out for 
him into his very 
own saucer. 



other interest newly 

J “SHE 

in the 


There was an- 



“ SHE POURED IT OUT FOR HIM INTO HIS 


> > 


sprung up 


VERY OWN SAUCER. 
















7 6 A Lonely Little Lady 

Brownie’s life. Ever since she had gently ex¬ 
plained her reason for wishing to be at home 
at a certain hour, the Duke and Duchess had 
seen that she should be when she was visiting 
them. They timed it to a nicety that the Brownie 
should alight at her own door and be in the hall 
just when Sir Charles was likely to be going out; 
and the Brownie felt very grateful to them for 
understanding that she liked to do what her most 
casual acquaintance asked her — even Papa. He 
was not nearly such a distant relation as he had 
been, of course, because she saw him nearly every 
day now, and they contrived to talk, unless any one 
came into the hall, or Mamma’s step were heard 
approaching, when, quite inexplicably, Sir Charles 
would be looking for his ever-missing gloves and 
the Brownie going slowly upstairs to the nursery. 
It puzzled her why this should be so ; but as she 
could not explain it, and it was one of the unwritten 
laws of her life that she should not ask ques¬ 
tions, she simply acquiesced as usual, and followed 
her father’s lead without attempting to understand 
further. They generally managed to talk a little, 
however. Sir Charles had read “ Alice in Wonder- 



A Lonely Little Lady 77 

land,” and at the Brownie’s further recommendation 
“On a Pincushion” and “The Little People,” and 
they discussed these books together. Though a 
mere novice in fairy-tale reading, 

Sir Charles proved intelligent. 

He appreciated “The Toy 
Princess ” as much as the 
Brownie herself, and regarded 
her with a deeper scrutiny when 
she explained that it reminded 
her of herself. “ I always some¬ 
how have to say just what peo¬ 
ple wish and nothing more,” 
she said. “ Only I ’m a real 
toy, you know, and I ’m not liv¬ 
ing 

Sir Charles did not look as if he had known, but 
he was ready to be instructed. “Your mother — ” 
he began. 

“Yes, Mamma isn’t a queen, I know. But she 
looks like one, don’t you think?” 

“ Perhaps she would like to be one ? ” he 
suggested. 

Yes,” said the Brownie thoughtfully. “ I don’t 



1 SIR CHARLES STOOPED 

somewhere else all the while.” down and kissed her.” 


<( 













78 A Lonely Little Lady 

know. I think she’d like to be a— what was it 
that you said you could be? ” 

“A peer — like Lord Bay, you know.’ 

“Yes, that’s it. What will Belle be when she 
marries him ? ” 

“ A peeress.” 

“ Is that more than Mamma? ” 

i 

“Yes: I am only a baronet.” 

“What a pity! — for Mamma, I mean,” said the 
Brownie. “ Of course it could n’t make you any 
different.” 

Sir Charles stooped down and kissed her. 

The terrible day of the fancy ball dawned at last. 
The Brownie would hardly have recognised it until 
the evening, but that, as she went out for her walk 
with Miss Price, a cartload of palms and hothouse 
plants were being carried in through the hall and 
arranged in banks of moss up the stairs. There 
was red carpet, too, being unrolled, and a group of 
onlookers of the poorer class were staring up at the 
bunting, which was being extended farther along 
the balcony. 

“ Lor’, look at the young laidy ! ” said a nurse¬ 
maid to a badly-dressed child she was leading. 





iC c 


don’t YOU WISH YOU WAS GOING, BELLA ? 


: >> 


































































A Lonely Little Lady 8 i 

“It’s ’er party, I shouldn’t wonder. Don’t you 
wish you was going, Bella ? ” 

Bella sniffed by way of reproach to Fortune for 
not having dowered her equally with the “little 
lady ” whose sad brown eyes looked back at the 
children of the poor with an expression whose mean¬ 
ing they could not divine. They envied her ! The 
Brownie knit her brows in the effort not to be as 
basely ungrateful as she felt. But—they could 
not understand. 

“ I have at last, my dear Hero, procured a speci¬ 
men of the Spanish oak leaf for your collection,” 
said Miss Price ; and the Brownie came back to 
botany almost with relief. 

It was a very hot day in the beginning of May. 
All the afternoon the sunlight burnt the dusty pave¬ 
ments outside, and the sun-blinds were drawn over 
the windows of the night-nursery, where the Brownie 
was told to lie down and rest in preparation for the 
late hours she was about to keep. It was impos¬ 
sible to go to sleep like Master Pinnock, who jumped 
on to the bed beside her and stretched his body out 
limply, dozing off in a highly enviable manner. The 

Brownie lay still, with wide eyes gazing about the 

6 


82 


A Lonely Little Lady 

darkened room, where the shaded sun made a yel¬ 
low gloom. It was dull work, without even a book ; 
but then she was supposed to be asleep. At five 
o’clock she had her tea, and about half-past seven a 
kind of light supper. The guests were not asked 
until half-past eight. “ And they won’t come until 
nine,” Mamma had said, u which will give us time 
to eat our dinners in comfort ! ” 

Then came the solemn process of dressing. It 
began with a bath, and ended with the electric-light 
wand, of which Nurse had an almost superstitious 
dread. Her openly expressed hope that the tiny 
battery might not explode and do anybody a mis¬ 
chief was not likely to inspire confidence, and the 
Brownie went downstairs to be inspected, trembling 
with an added fright. 

Mamma was dressed in a lovely velvet gown and 
a high pearled collar: she looked an ideal Mary 
Queen of Scots, and the Brownie thought it was 
little wonder that Darnley and Bothwell should have 
been jealous of everybody else if she were really at 
all like that. Laura was all in white, as Dresden 
China; and Belle was Portia, the red cap and gown 
suiting her admirably. The Brownie caught a 
















































































































































A Lonely Little Lady 85 

glimpse of a grey head she knew disappearing down 
a passage, and tne glitter of a sword, and recog¬ 
nised that even Sir Charles was in Court dress, as 
Harrington Oval, the 
great R.A.,had painted 
his portrait. 

Mamma and Belle 
and Laura expressed 
great satisfaction over 
her dress ; and Archi¬ 
bald, whom she had 
not known to be in 
the house, appeared in 
uniform, and asked \ ' 1 
her how many hearts 
she meant to break to¬ 
night— to which the 
Brownie answered very 
seriously that she 
hoped none; and even Vivian, the younger and 
taller and thinner of her step-brothers, laughed 
faintly. His endless body was enveloped in a black 
college gown, because he was a B. A. — though 
what that meant the Brownie did not know. 



PORTIA. 





























86 


A Lonely Little Lady 

Lord Bay had been dining with the family also, 
and he brought the Brownie a beautiful shower 
bouquet of moss-roses, pink and white, and with 

long trails of green. She 
liked the flowers, but ob¬ 
jected to the kiss he exacted 
in payment, and was almost 
glad when the arrival of her 
first guests relieved her of 
his teasing. 

Mamma had motioned 
her to her usual place near 
the door, and had said, 
“ You know what to do, 
Brownie,” before she went 
back to laugh and talk with 
Archie and Vivian ; and the 
Brownie, shifting her dan¬ 
gerous wand to her left 
hand, held out her right 
graciously to the bewildering stream of children 
who were being announced. If it had been diffi¬ 
cult to know her guests of former years, it was 
well-nigh impossible this, when their strange 














A Lonely Little Lady 87 

dresses or powdered hair changed them beyond 
knowledge. The Brownie’s head ached with Knights 
Templars and Dutch Dolls, Fairy Queens and Pier¬ 
rots, Duchesses of Devonshire and Clowns; and 
she found the grown-up people little better. It was 
hard to realise, for instance, that 
the fierce bushranger, with bowies 
and pistols in his belt, was merely 
Mr. Gordon-Staines, whom she 
had seen only yesterday drinking 
tea in a perfectly mild and harm¬ 
less fashion ; or that Captain Lisle 
had suddenly become transformed 
into a Viking, with winged helmet 
and a bearskin flung over his 
shoulder in place of the shiny top- 
hat and frock coat of every-day 
life. Such a lot of people brought 
her flowers too ! The men were always handing her 
huge bouquets, and saying would she accept them, 
and might they have a dance ? At last Archibald 
laid them carefully on the ground at her feet — five 
or six great nosegays — in the midst of which she 
stood, shut in by the scented ring and shaking 
hands across it. 








88 


A Lonely Little Lady 

The Brownie tried hard to commit the children’s 
faces to memory : she thought she should remem¬ 
ber one pretty little girl dressed as Red Riding 
Hood, and a smaller child who was a baby doll, and 

one tall handsome boy in 
the costume of a Torea¬ 
dor, whose face passed her 
vaguely as she shook hands 
with Major Maude. The 
Major had only just arrived, 
and the Brownie looked 
at his broad shoulders in 
their red-and-gold bravery, 
and the big spurs which 
jingled as he walked, and 
smiled at him. 

“ You must give me 
some dances,” he said, and 
added his initials to her fast filling programme. 
“ I have brought you some flowers, but I see 
you have so many already that you won’t care for 
them.” 

<c Please give them to me: I should like them 
very much,” was the Brownie’s answer. “And I 



A VIKING. 


A Lonely Little Lady 


89 


will carry them in¬ 
stead of the others,” 
she added, with a 
hope of pleasing her 
mother. 

H is dark face 
lightened, and he 
put the clusters of 
white roses into her 
hands. Then he 
passed on behind 
her, and the Brownie 
knew whom he had 
gone to meet; but 
she could not see 
her mother even 
reflected in the big 
mirrors, for the 
crowd was thicken- 
ing. 

The Duke and 
Duchess had prom¬ 
ised to put in an 
appearance, but the 



< \ ( 


\ r 


sM' c c 


i.v s m 


U IN THE MIDST OF WHICH SHE STOOD 


> 9 


Brownie did not see them 















go A Lonely Little Lady 

come, for they were late, and when the third waltz 
began Lord Bay would wait no longer, and claimed 
the dance which the Brownie had promised him. 
The bouquets were carefully piled up on the mantel¬ 
piece in an imposing array, and somebody took care 

of the electric-light wand 
— to its rightful owner’s 
great relief—and then the 
Brownie put her small hand 
on the gold lace of Lord 
Bay’s mess-jacket and was 
whirled off' down the great 
room, the polished floor fly¬ 
ing under her light feet, and 
the clash of the band urging 
her on in a maddening meas¬ 
ure. Her future brother 

RED RIDING HOOD. Tin 1 

— Lord Bay was always 
ready to insist on the relationship — danced well, 
and the Brownie enjoyed the waltz. They went 
into the conservatory when it was over and the 
Brownie had taken her flowers again, and sat 
amongst the great palms and the.fairy lights. Other 
couples were visible at a distance; the Brownie 

























( c 



yy 


THE POLISHED FLOOR FLYING UNDER HER LIGHT FEET 









































































93 


A Lonely Little Lady 

could see Laura and Mr. Gifford, and thought she 
caught a glimpse of Mamma’s velvet train at the 
farthest end, but her partner, whoever it was, was 
hidden. 

“ Whose flowers are you carrying ? ” asked Lord 
Bay, with intent to tease. “ It’s awfully hard on 
us other fellows ; you’ve clung to those white roses 
in preference to any others.” 

“ Major Maude brought them,” said the Brownie 
simply, adding gently, “ I could n’t carry them all , 
you see.” 

“You might give us each a turn,” he suggested. 

“ Would n’t that be rather— rather a poor com¬ 
pliment ? ” asked the Brownie sedately. “ You see, 
it’s such a very little time for each.” 

Lord Bay threw back his head and laughed out 
loud. “You are too delicious!” he said. “So 
you think it’s better to pay one big compliment 
than to divide your favours? Still I don’t see that 
Maude has any special claim. Don’t you think 
I ’m as nice ? I’m going to be your brother, you 
know.” 

If the Brownie did not know, it was not for lack 
of telling. 



94 


A Lonely Little Lady 

“ Yes,” she said politely. “ When are you go¬ 
ing to marry Belle, Lord Bay ? ” 

“Very soon now — next month. But you 
must n’t call me Lord Bay, Brownie. I am 
Lionel to you.” 

The Brownie’s face looked troubled. She never 
could help feeling that she was taking a liberty in 
calling people by their Christian names on a brief 
acquaintance. 

“Belle says I am to be one of the bridesmaids,” 
she remarked, hoping to distract his thoughts. 

“ Ah, yes ; so you are. Now I want to consult 
you about the presents. The bridegroom always 
gives the bridesmaids presents, you know. What 
would you like best ? ” 

The Brownie was saved replying by the appear¬ 
ance of her next partner, who began to joke Lord 
Bay upon having hidden himself and her in the 
darkest and farthest corner. 

“But I was not to be done,” he added. “It’s 
no use, Bay — no use.” 

“ We are not at all glad to see you,” Lord Bay 
retorted. He had drawn his chair close to the 
Brownie’s and assumed a confidential air as he 



I COULD N’T CARRY THEM ALL, YOU SEE. 




> y> 

















































97 


A Lonely Little Lady 

began to talk about the presents, which made her 
rather glad than otherwise to see Captain Lascelles. 
But she smiled at Lord Bay as she took the Cap¬ 
tain’s arm, and he promptly took it as acquiescence 
in his assertion. 

“ Never mind, we have another dance later on,” 
he said in a congratulatory tone. 

“ I suppose I shall have to call him Lionel, 
then,” thought the Brownie uneasily, as she went 
away. “ Would you put my flowers somewhere 
safe, please, Captain Lascelles? ” she said aloud. 

“ Certainly. What lovely roses ! Will you give 
me one if I ask very prettily ? ” 

“ But you can’t wear it in uniform,” objected the 
Brownie, as they fell into step. 

“ Wear it! Wear a flower you gave me for half 
the vulgar crowd to see ! ” he returned, with lan¬ 
guid extravagance. “ Not I. I should put it in 
my waistcoat pocket, as near my heart as possible, 
and keep it for ever,” etc., etc., etc. 

The Brownie danced with many men that night, 
and they mostly said the same things. Now and 
then she skilfully coaxed them into talking what 

she called “ sense,” but they almost invariably com- 

. 7 


98 A Lonely Little Lady 

plimented her on her frock and her appearance, and 
pretended to be jealous of each other, or to quarrel 
with her, and then complained to Lady Lorraine 
that she was a hard-hearted little coquette. Mam¬ 
ma’s silvery laugh rang out merrily as she said 
“ Oh, Brownie ! ” but * the Brownie’s melancholy 
smile was hardly suggestive of the character they 
gave her. 

Perhaps she enjoyed her dances with Major 
Maude as well as any : he was very strong, and 
almost carried her off her feet, but he did not speak 
while dancing, and but little while they sat out. He 
seemed absorbed and absent, and there was a 
suppressed excitement in his manner, but this 
caused him to leave the Brownie to herself, and she 
was thankful for the rest. 

She was standing with him in the doorway for a 
minute, as a dance was just beginning, when a tall, 
dark girl came across the room alone and spoke to 
her. She was a handsome child, about twelve years 
old, and her face was quite strange to the Brownie, 
who regarded her with some distress. 

£C You are Hero Lorraine, are n’t you ? ” said the 
child, rather abruptly. 











99 


A Lonely Little Lady 

“ Yes,” said the Brownie gently, who was un¬ 
learned in the ways of childish introductions, and 
did not see what this could portend. 

“ I am Reine Errol,” announced the girl, in the 
same off-hand manner. u IVly brother wants to 
dance with you. May I introduce him? There 
he is — across there.” 

The Brownie looked in the direction indicated, 
and saw the same boy, dressed as a Toreador, whom 
she had vaguely noticed at the beginning of the 
evening. He was taller than his sister, and looked 
about thirteen or fourteen, a graceful effective figure 
in his Spanish dress, with a curly head, which he 
carried rather haughtily, and a little air of being 
slightly bored which struck the Brownie as odd in 
any one who was not grown-up. They were 
evidently a good-looking family, for this young 
gentleman was undeniably handsome. 

“I don’t know if I have a dance left,” said the 
Brownie courteously. “ But please introduce him, 
and I will dance with him if I can.” She added 
to the Major, “Would you wait a minute, please? 

I have to speak to a boy,” as Reine Errol crossed 
the room and returned with her brother. 


I oo 


A Lonely Little Lady 

“ Miss Lorraine, this is my brother, Lord Bertie 
Errol,” said the young lady, after which she turned 
away and left the Brownie to grapple with the 
situation. 

“ May I have a dance? ” Lord Bertie asked, with 
a slight drawl. It sounded so little what she 
expected from a boy, that the Brownie looked up at 
him rather puzzled. He was gazing at her with 
a steadiness which surprised her still more. 

“What a curious boy!" she thought, as she sur¬ 
veyed her programme. “ I have one dance left,” 
she said, handing her card to him. He wrote 
something on it — the Brownie on referring after¬ 
wards found that he had simply put “ Bertie ” — and 
gave it back to her with a slight bow. He was per¬ 
fectly graceful, and not at all stiff, as he did so ; but 
it all seemed so grown up and unnatural to the 
Brownie that she felt rather relieved to waltz away 
with Major Maude. Grown-up people were inex¬ 
plicable sometimes to her mind, but she had always 
put it down to their being grown up ; when a boy 
looked and behaved like that it was dreadful. 

“ I wonder if that is what the Duke means when 
he says that he hates boys who ape men ? ” she 







“ HE WROTE SOMETHING ON IT . . . AND GAVE IT BACK TO 
HER WITH A SLIGHT BOW.” 



































































































































A Lonely Little Lady 103 

thought gravely. “ I don’t like that boy — 
much.” 

Lord Bertie came for his dance with a promp¬ 
titude which made the Brownie’s last partner 
grumble. She had been dancing with Lord Bay 
again, and was wondering when her next partner 
would put an end to their tete-a-tete; but when she 
saw that it was this particular one of her few boy- 
partners, her heart sank again. Lord Bertie took 
his predecessor’s chaff with perfect good-nature; 
they were evidently old acquaintances, for the 
Brownie noticed that he said, “ You could n’t expect 
to be in all the time, Bay ! ” and Lord Bay 
returned, “ It ’ll be a drawn game yet, Bertie ! ” 

Lord Bertie waltzed perfectly, and the Brownie 
ought to have felt more at home with a partner 
nearer her own height; but something jarred on her. 
She could not tell what it was — whether to put it 
down to his lordship’s devotedly languid manner, or 
his way of saying “ Shall we go and sit on the 
stairs ? ” or else a flying sentence which she caught 
as they wended their way thither after the dance was 
over. Such a crowd of children were pushing their 
way through the doorway that the Brownie and her 



104 A. Lonely Little Lady 

partner had to stand still. Then she saw that her 
mother was just beside her, talking to a younger 
lady whom she knew only slightly. 

“ Oh yes,” this girl was saying, “ that is Lord 
Bertie Errol. He is the nicest boy I know — 
Mamma says we all spoil him, and he ought to be 
detestable. But he is n’t. He is a perfect little 
cavalier, and a devoted slave of mine. I would 
rather talk to Bertie than to most of the men I 
know.” 

“ H as he been dancing with Brownie ? ” 

“ Oh, that is quite a case! He has been trying 
to get introduced all the evening. I must ask the 
Brownie how she dares to cut me out. Bertie has 
no eyes or ears for any one else ! ” 

The Brownie’s discomfort was complete. But 
she guessed that her partner had not heard, he 
being on the further side. She felt humiliated and 
annoyed, and was possessed with a desire to drop the 
boy’s arm and run away, instead of which she seated 
herself on the stairs with an added sedateness, and 
looked steadily away over the heads and headdresses 
of the merry crowd below her. They were on the 
top stair of the flight; the Brownie had paused 



A Lonely Little Lady 105 

half-way and said, “ Won’t this do?” but Lord 
Bertie had replied, “ Oh, let’s go up a little higher 
wont you? ’ and she had rather unwillingly 
complied. She would have preferred to have sat in 
the midst of the children, and not to have made 



* ‘ THEY WERE ON THE TOP STAIR.” 


herself in the least exceptional for the older people 
to notice. 

Lord Bertie began to talk, and revealed a phase 
of the Juvenile World hitherto outside the Brownie’s 
experience. At first he chatted to her quite nat¬ 
urally, if in rather too self-possessed a way, about 













106 A Lonely Little Lady 

Eton, and Lord’s, and other boyish subjects ; but 
the Brownie did not get over her strong feeling of 
distaste, though she could not have found where 
the fault lay. She had lately, from the Duke’s 
conversation and the Duchess’s tales of her nieces 
and nephews, set up a standard ior children in her 
own mind, and she was rather rigid in her views 
respecting it. No one guessed how intensely she 
puzzled over questions ol life and— I had almost 
said morality, but perhaps sociality is a better word; 
for being a very quiet child and reserved by educa¬ 
tion, she did not talk of it, and only occasionally 
startled her governess by propounding questions of 
right and wrong with which that lady was totally 
unable to cope. Hitherto the Brownie had not 
been able to compare herself with other children, 
knowing none; even now she did it at second¬ 
hand ; but she was very firm and decided in her 
views as to what was rational and appropriate for 
children, unconsciously drawing her conclusions 
from her own sad experience. It was not natural 
for boys and girls to try to be grown up before 
their time; such things came soon enough and 
were terrible and miserable. The Brownie bore 


A Lonely Little Lady 107 

with it when men made mock love to her because 
she needs must — it was a thing to be put wearily 
on one side as soon as possible, and only en¬ 
dured. But her whole soul revolted against the same 
thing in miniature, as exampled in Lord Bertie 
Errol. 

Lord Bertie had speedily dropped indifferent 
topics and with some skill adopted a more personal 
tone. He startled the Brownie by informing her 
how often she and Miss Price had walked in the 
Park that week : it appeared that he rode in the 
Row nearly every morning, in the hope of seeing — 
his friends, he said adroitly, his sentimental glance 
meeting the grave displeasure in the eyes the 
Brownie turned upon him quickly. She under¬ 
stood his insinuation, but if he really went in the 
Park to meet her, she decided to beguile Miss 
Price in another direction. Lord Bertie was home 
from Eton owing to an epidemic of fever, but the 
Brownie devoutly hoped that he would soon be able 
to return to his studies. She tried snubbing him 
gently, but he only looked amused and slightly 
reproachful. Then she made a desperate effort to 
talk on impersonal subjects — cricket, to begin 




108 A Lonely Little Lady 

with—whereat he immediately asked her if she 
would go to Lord’s this year if he sent her 
tickets. 

“ I don’t know. I think I should like to, if some 
one would take me,” she replied, afraid to refuse 
lest it should be rude. 

<c Oh, I will coax Lady Lorraine into taking you, 
if you would really care to come,” he said confi¬ 
dently — he knew his own powers. “ I shall look 
forward to the match now ! ” 

The Brownie declined to see the compliment. 

“ I wonder if the Duke and Duchess have 
come?” she remarked irrelevantly. 

“ The Duke of Rosborough ? ” he asked, picking 
up the Brownie’s bouquet as he lounged beside her, 
and playing with the white roses. 

“Yes. He’s a great friend of mine.” 

“ I’m glad of that,” said Lord Bertie, looking 
down at the little figure beside him with a half- 
patronising devotion. “ He is my uncle. Do you 
go to Rosborough House ? ” 

“ Oh yes ; often. Sometimes twice a week. Is 
the Duke really your uncle ? ” 

“ Yes, really. He is a jolly old fellow, is n’t he ? 




A Lonely Little Lady 109 

I did n t know you knew them. I must go and 
look them up, I think. What day do you gener- 
ally go ? ” 

“ Oh, no particular day,” said the Brownie cau¬ 
tiously. “ I wonder — ” 

Then she paused. She had been going to say, 
“ I wonder why I have never heard them speak of 
you, lor I know the names of so many of their 
nephews and nieces,” but she stopped herself with 
a flash of comprehension. She was sure that this 
boy was not among the Duke’s favourites or the 
Duchess’s either. He was too spoiled and too 
affected. Not that Lord Bertie was unmanly, but 
he was a most modern production in that he cer¬ 
tainly “ aped the ways of his elders ” — a thing the 
Duke abominated. His parents were dead, as the 
Brownie discovered later, and an indiscriminating 
grandmother had done her best to make him pre¬ 
cocious during the holidays ; while at Eton he was 
the moving spirit of a clique which, without lacking 
physical distinction, was mentally advanced to an 
objectionable degree. The Brownie’s instinct, which 
at least was neither stunted nor unhealthy, detected 
the atmosphere of unreality and forwardness about 



iio A Lonely Little Lady 

him, and she resented it with all the strength of her 
nature. 

She heard the next dance strike up with greater 
relief than ever before, and insisted on descending 
to the dancing-room at once, despite Lord Bertie s 
persuasions to her to let her next partner find her. 

u I think your dress is the most effective, and 
certainly the prettiest here, Miss Lorraine, he 
said, as they went slowly down the stairs. 

“ I am not Miss Lorraine — that is Belle,” said 
the Brownie. 

“ Then what am I to call you ? ” 

“ I suppose you had better say Brownie,” she 
replied rather reluctantly. 

“ Well, of course I would much rather! May I 
really ? ” he said promptly, bending down with an air 
of open love-making that exasperated the Brownie. 

“ Please, Lord Bertie, don’t — ” she was begin¬ 
ning, when her eyes fell on her mother, who was 
standing below her talking to Archie and Major 
Maude and one or two more men. Lady Lorraine 
was evidently pointing out her daughter and Lord 
Bertie to the group, and they were all laughing and 
looking very much amused. The Brownie’s face 



Ill 


A Lonely. Little Lady 

crimsoned and she caught her breath, feeling in¬ 
clined to cry with the self-consciousness forced upon 
her. And unfortunately they had reached the foot 
of the stairs, and Lord Bertie’s next speech was 
distinctly audible. 

“ Oh, you must n’t call me by my title if I call 
you Brownie ! ” he said, putting his arm half round 
her to guide her through the crowd. “Won’t you 
say Bertie ? ” 

J 

The Brownie twisted herself free and almost ran 
into the supper-room, wishing she had not heard 
her mother’s mocking comment. 

“ Really, I feel quite uncomfortable ! Let us 
run away, Major Maude, before we overhear any 
more. He will be going to Sir Charles next! ” 

But inside the supper-room there was a rescue 
for the Brownie: the Duke of Rosborough — in 
hunting dress, pink coat, top boots, and all — was 
standing by the sideboard talking to his host, and 
looking as if he appreciated the glass of champagne 
in his hand very much indeed. The Brownie’s 
heart gave a bound of relief, and her feet seemed to 
follow it, for in two seconds she was by the Duke’s 
side. 


I I 2 


A Lonely Little Lady 

“ Why, here’s the Brownie!” he exclaimed at 
once, putting down his glass that he might take the 
small hand held out to him. “ And what a Brownie ! 
a true fairy, wand and all. Why, she looks radiant, 
does n’t she, Lorraine ? ” 

The Brownie stood between the two feeling sud¬ 
denly safe and happy, and drawing long breaths of 
relief. She was flushed with excitement and pleas¬ 
ure as she clung to the Duke’s hand and looked up 
at her father. 

“ Yes, certainly, she looks very well to-night. 
As a rule she is paler than children generally are, 
I fancy. You are very well, aren’t you?” Sir 
Charles asked, regarding the small figure gravely. 

The Brownie felt rather surprised that he should 
know how she looked generally, for during those 
interviews in the hall he had not appeared to 
observe her much. She was prevented answering 
by Lord Bertie, who had followed her in, and asked 
her solicitously over her shoulder what he might 
get her to eat and drink. The sudden nearness of 
his handsome curly head bent down to her own 
made the Brownie start and shrink, and the Duke 
turn round. 


A Lonely Little Lady 1x3 

“ How d’ ye do, my boy ? ” he said kindly ; but 
the Brownie detected a rather forced ring in the 
greeting, hearty though it was. “ What are you 
doing up from Eton at this time of the year?” 

“Well, Uncle, the little fellows most obligingly 
got a fever scare among them, so we were drafted 
home, and I came in for an extra fortnight’s vac. 
Very glad I did too ! ” His eyes met the Brownie’s 
for an instant, and eloquently explained his mean¬ 
ing. She tightened her clasp of the Duke’s hand 
unconsciously. 

“ That’s a handsome lad,” remarked Sir Charles, 
as Lord Bertie pushed his way through the crowd 
in search of champagne and ices. “ Is he your 
partner?” he added to the Brownie. 

“H e was,” she replied, firmly determined to 
mark the limit of Lord Bertie’s claim to her atten¬ 
tion, “for that last dance. He is Lord Bertie 
Errol.” 

“ One of your nephews ? ” said Sir Charles ques- 
tioningly to the Duke. 

“My heir — poor George’s son,” returned his 
Grace briefly. 

The Brownie understood from his tone that he 


8 


114 A Lonely Little Lady 


regretted Lord Bertie being his heir, and she did 
not wonder. When that young gentleman returned 
with the champagne the Duke was asking after 
Master Pinnock. 

“ I expected to see him dressed up in blue rib¬ 
bons ! ” he said, laughing. 

“ Oh, he would n’t like that! ” explained the 
Brownie gravely. “ But he had supper with me 
before it all began, and I expect he’s asleep on 
my bed. I wouldn’t bring him into this!” she 
added with a sigh. 

“ Who is Master Pinnock — another admirer? 
What a coquette you are, Brownie ! ” Lord Bertie 
joined in. 

The Brownie’s chin went half an inch higher, 
and she regarded him with intense disfavour. 

“ Master Pinnock is a cat,” she said quietly, but 
in a tone which brought a queer smile to her father’s 
lips and made the Duke’s eyes twinkle. 

“One for you, Bertie!” he said; but his lord- 
ship was not at all nonplussed. 

“ Are you fond of cats ? ” he asked. “ I shall 
send you a Persian as a peace-offering — then per¬ 
haps you won’t be so hard on me. Lady Lorraine, 



A Lonely Little Lady 11 cj 

I’m so glad you’ve come just in time; I want to 
send the Brownie a Persian kitten. May she have 
it?” 

<c Certainly ! was the laughing answer. cc I be¬ 
lieve there is a nursery cat, but that is soon dis¬ 
posed of. Brownie, Major Maude says this is his 
dance, and you are wasting half of it.” 

The Major looked down rather wonderingly as 
he offered his arm to his small partner, for the hand 
she laid upon it was trembling, and her face had 
gone white and almost tragic. There was some¬ 
thing like agony in the eyes which looked away 
past him as he guided her slowly down the long 
room. Yet he had fancied that she liked dancing 
with him. 

“ What is the matter, little one ? ” he asked at 
last, and he spoke very gently. 

“ Nothing — at least, something — only I can’t 
tell you now. I will some time.” 

He had to be satisfied with that, but he wondered 
over the Brownie’s unusual silence. She talked to 
him easily as a rule, though she never chattered as 
children are supposed to do, nor wearied him 
with uninteresting babble — she had been too well 



116 A Lonely Little Lady 

trained for that. He could not know that the 
Brownie’s thoughts were distracted from him by 
miserable fear for an older friend. 

“ There is a nursery cat, but that is soon dis¬ 
posed of! ” Lady Lorraine had said. In the lightly 
spoken words, in the smile turned on Lord Bertie, 
the Brownie had read Master Pinnock’s doom. 
Her experience in the case of Muriel Erne had 
warned her of what was to come ; no fuss, no use¬ 
less crying, no possible appeal against the decree 
which would quietly remove this thing she loved 
out of her life to make way for something u more 
desirable.” A Persian kitten would be more pic¬ 
turesque— it would be so pretty to see her play¬ 
ing with it — the Brownie could almost hear her 
mother’s voice saying it. As to her own choice, 
her own inclination — in this case her own passion¬ 
ate despair— that did not count for anything. It 
never had. She was just a big doll to be dressed 
and undressed; her personality was merely con¬ 
tained in her picturesqueness — horrible word, that 
limited her existence on every side ! For the first 
time the Brownie felt bitter against Fate. Her 
hopeless acceptance of the inevitable was turned to 





A Lonely Little Lady 117 

furious anger and indignation; she felt that her 
philosophy was shattered, and this one thing she 
could not bear. Sobs of terror and excitement rose 
in her throat, her overwrought nerves avenging 
themselves for the long strain of the past hours. 
She dared not cry, but she could not speak. No 
wonder Major Maude found her silent. 

The remainder of the party was a nightmare 
haunted by visions of finding Master Pinnock al¬ 
ready gone when she went up to bed. The guests 
would not be quick enough ; she shook hands with 
them one by one, with outward courtesy but inward 
impatience. She heard the Duke, as in a dream, 
say, “ She looks very tired,” and the Duchess add 
that she wished she could take her away with her 
into the country next week — but it all seemed a 
dream. Dreamlike, too, Lord Bay’s laughing pro¬ 
test that he was to be married in a fortnight, and 
the Brownie was chief bridesmaid and could not be 
spared; then Lord Bertie’s lingering farewell, and 
whispered words not to forget him, and something 
about seeing her in the Park next day. The 
Brownie’s unreasoning dislike amounted to hatred 
as she met his dark eyes and realised that to him 


118 A Lonely Little Lady 

she owed the present anxiety and probable grief in 
the future. 

She was so thankful — so thankful when they 
were all gone, and Archie carried her upstairs to 
bed with her soft brown head drooping on to his 
shoulder, to be undressed by Nurse. She was too 
worn out and sick to think any more, and realised 
nothing until Nurse laid her in her small bed, and 
remarking that she would “ sleep without rocking 
to-night,” took away the light without further cere¬ 
mony. Then something moved in the room, and 
before she could rouse herself to be frightened a 
heavy body leaped on to the bed, two strong paws 
were prodding her chest, and Master Pinnock lay 
down full length beside her, with the deep guttural 
purr in his throat which was his greatest expression 
of pleasure, and his big flat head pushed up into 
her arms. 

He was not gone yet. In sudden and intense 
relief the Brownie gathered him close to her, fold¬ 
ing his heavy body against her heart, and hiding 
her face in the pillow to stifle the choking sobs 
which shook her. Pinnock would not like her hot 
tears raining on his head, and besides, if she cried 



A Lonely Little Lady iig 

much Nurse would see the stains on her face to¬ 
morrow. It was no good saying why she had cried, 
and the wound was too sore to bear touching at 
present. 

It was only a little girl crying over a cat. But 
the Brownie had centred her deepest affections in 
him, and not even the interest of her new friends 
could oust its first inmate from her heart. It was 
as important a thing to her as any of the greatest 
tragedies of the world have been to the actors in 
them, and her despair was as great in proportion, 
and far more unreasoning. In her case also there 
was no further appeal. The bright May morning 
peeping into the room found the Brownie lying 
white and nerveless on her pillow, in a sleep of 
utter exhaustion, but with no tears on her long 
brown lashes to tell of her secret trouble. 


CHAPTER V 



('tit 
% 



HE Duchess of Rosborough 
was away from town for a 
brief rest at Coombe Weald, 
the country house where her nieces 
and nephews ran riot occasionally; 
and the Duke was very busy in 
Parliament, concerned with a thing 
called a Bill, therefore communica¬ 
tion with them was practically cut 
off from the Brownie, whose over¬ 
charged heart might otherwise have 
sought and found relief in confiding her fear for 
her four-footed friend. She spent the ensuing 
fortnight in a waking nightmare, sick with fear 
whenever she came in from her walk lest there 
should be no Pinnock to greet her, and nearly fret¬ 
ting herself ill in silence over the grey cat, whose 
unruffled placidity struck her as an added horror; 
for of course poor Pinnock ate, and slept, and ful- 








I 2 I 


A Lonely Little Lady 

filled his duty of keeping the nursery free from 
mice, unconscious of his probable fate. The 
Brownie was always pale, so her white face escaped 
notice beyond the summary ordering of a tonic. 
She swallowed the iron and quinine obediently; but 
mental worry does not yield to tonics. 

Her trouble was augmented by several visits from 
Lord Bertie. The young Etonian was equally at 
his ease in a drawing-room as in a cricket-field. 
He quickly made himself at home and useful, and 
was popular. Lady Lorraine encouraged him, and 
made merry about his devotion at the Brownie’s 
expense; Belle and Laura petted him, and Lord 
Bay chaffed him, all of which he took with unfail¬ 
ing good-nature. Lord Bay also teased the Brownie 
about her latest conquest, until she learned to 
tremble and shake while Nurse dressed her for the 
drawing-room lest Lord Bertie should be in it when 
she reached there. In her calmer moments, when 
five o’clock was far away, or her young admirer had 
not appeared for some days, she schooled herself to 
future indifference, and argued that Lord Bertie did 
not mean to be unkind — which was quite true — 
and that she ought rather to like talking to him, as 


1 2 2 


A Lonely Little Lady 

he was not grown up but nearer her own age. But 
assuredly as she came face to face with the boyish 
Adonis the old revulsion returned. The lover-like 
manner which she felt that he adopted in imitation 
of the men round him, the half-patronising tender¬ 
ness towards herself which she could not avert, 
awoke rigid disapproval in the Brownie’s mind. 
She disliked him for himself; she hated him when 
she remembered that he was Pinnock’s foe. It 
never occurred to her to ask him privately not to 
send her the kitten. He had several times referred 
to it, and assured her that he had not forgotten ; 
and had the Brownie appealed to him or given him 
her confidence — and she would willingly have 
made the effort for Pinnock’s sake — he would 
undoubtedly have done exactly as she wished. But 
the enforced habit of enduring speechlessly whatever 
was thrust upon her prevented such a course enter¬ 
ing her head ; and she nearly worried herself into a 
low fever in consequence. 

The Sunday after the fancy ball was the Brownie’s 
eighth birthday; the day falling on a Sunday had 
prevented the festivities from taking place on the 
actual date. It brought with it a host of presents 




123 


A Lonely Little Lady 

(for which the poor bewildered little girl began to 
think she had to kiss everybody after the acceptance 
of the tenth, and the universally imposed fine) and 
a great many state 
visits to the 
nursery, besides 
an awful hour in 
the drawing-room 
when Archie 
her hand 
with a large knife 
clasped in it to 
cut the pink and 
white cake which 
had come from 
Buzzard’s. One 
bright gleam in 
the day there was 
when a beautiful fairy-book appeared mysteriously 
in the nursery with her father’s love; it was “ The 
Story of Prince Ritto,” illustrated with splendid 
photographs. The Brownie valued it as a more 
personal and private gift than the pony which Sir 
Charles ostensibly contributed, though she liked the 




" ^ 



“ARCHIE guided her hand with a 

LARGE KNIFE.” 









124 A. Lonely Little Lady 

latter very much and would have enjoyed learning 
to ride him in the days which followed, had she not 
been haunted by her fears for Master Pinnock every 
time she went out with the groom as teacher. Lord 
Bay gave her a riding-whip, a pretty gold-mounted 
toy, and Belle and Laura a little rocking-chair, and 
Mamma two lovely gold bangles, and Archie a tiny 
clock to stand on the mantelpiece in the night- 
nursery, and Vivian a big edition ol Don Quixote 
with Dore’s illustrations, until — oh dear ! the 
Brownie grew confused with thanking them all. 
The Duke and Duchess sent her a rocking-horse — 
the Brownie very seldom received real toys — and 
Major Maude an Indian silver belt. These two 
the Brownie remembered and distinguished from 
the mass ; also the little ring with turquoises set as 
forget-me-nots which came from Lord Bertie, and 
which, pretty though it was, she accepted with ab¬ 
solute reluctance. It seemed to the Brownie a 
very impressive and overpowering day, wherein peo¬ 
ple made more inexplicable speeches and laughed at 
her rather more than usual; and she laid it by in 
her memory as second only in dread to that of the 
fancy ball. Most of the milestones of her life were 
set up in this way. 



A Lonely Little Lady 125 

A week had passed after her birthday before she 
summoned up courage to make an unprecedented 
effort for the deliverance of Master Pinnock. He 
was more affectionate than usual one day, placid in¬ 
difference being a marked trait in his character, and 
the Brownie’s heart was lacerated in consequence. 
She was dressed and sent down to the drawing-room 
about five as usual; but even when helping Sir 
Charles on with his coat she was absent-minded and 
very silent, and conversation in the drawing-room 
became an effort — the more so because Belle and 
Laura were both away, Belle staying with relations 
of Lord Bay’s, and Laura on another important 
visit, the Hon. Elliot Gifford being a fellow-guest 
with her. So being bereft of the help of her step¬ 
daughters, Lady Lorraine brought the Brownie into 
greater prominence than ever, until her curly head 
ached, and tears nearly welled up into her patient 
brown eyes. The Brownie was thankful when all 
the guests had departed except Major Maude ; he 
had taken to staying on sometimes beyond the other 
visitors, of which she was glad, as she liked him in 
a quiet fashion. 

“ What’s the matter, Brownie ? ” he said suddenly, 



126 A Lonely Little Lady 


lifting her up as she stood beside him, and looking 
intently into her grave little face. “You are very 
white and silent — is there anything wrong? ” 

“ I think the heat tries her,” Lady Lorraine said 
carelessly. She was standing opposite the Major on 
the tiger-skin which served as a hearthrug, leaning 
one arm on the mantelshelf, and swinging a hand- 

screen of brilliant feathers to 
and fro idly, and she did not 
glance at her daughter as she 
spoke. 

“ Nothing, thank you,” an¬ 
swered the Brownie, with a 
little sigh from her aching 
heart. “ At least, nothing 
that matters.” 

11 mattered to her materially, 
but she fully comprehended 
how unimportant it was to grown-up people. 

The Major set her on the ground gently; but he 
still played with her hair in an absent fashion as she 
stood beside him. 

“ Can t you tell me ? ” he said. His eyes had 
strayed away to that beautiful figure opposite. 



A BIG EDITION OF DON 
> ? 


QUIXOTE. 




“ ‘ WHY, BROWNIE,’ SHE SAID, WITH A CURIOUS QUIVER IN HER 
GAY VOICE, e WHAT ARE ALL THE TEARS ABOUT?’ ” 































































































































A Lonely Little Lady 129 

“ Yes, of course I can tell you,” said the Brownie 
quietly. “ But you would n’t think it much. It is 
only ” — she looked appealingly towards her mother 
— C£ that I don t want a Persian kitten, or — or in¬ 
deed any cat! ” 

The subdued passion and the earnestness in her 
voice caught the attention of both her hearers. 
Major Maude looked down at her with an honestly 
puzzled expression, while Lady Lorraine turned 
round with a smile beginning to curve her lips. 

££ Why, Brownie ! ” she said, ££ don’t you like 
pussy-cats ? ” 

££ Oh yes, very much! ” answered the Brownie 
truthfully. ££ Only not instead of Master Pinnock.” 

“Who is Master Pinnock?” asked the Major 
kindly, taking her hand in his and holding it closely. 
“ Come, I knew there was a trouble — tell us all 
about it! ” 

“ Please,” began the Brownie, her words coming 
hurriedly in her eagerness, and the sobs which ex¬ 
citement and worry had made it almost impossible 
to check threatening to prevent the explanation, 
“Master Pinnock is our cat — he is always in the 
nursery — we have had him quite two years. I 


9 



130 A Lonely Little Lady 

think he was born in the kitchen, but he soon came 
upstairs. And he sleeps on my bed — and he’s my 
friend—a very old friend — and Mamma said if 
Lord Bertie gave me a Persian kitten Pin would — 
would” — (the sobs were getting more and more 
difficult to fight) “ would be got rid of — and — oh 
dear ! I can’t bear it.” 

The last words were unnaturally soft, the child 
making a wild effort to hold her breath and stop 
the sobs. It struck through the absorbed selfishness 
of her audience with an uncomfortable shock. 
Grown-up beings who have taught themselves to 
suffer in silence might show just such self-control, 
but children cry loudly and heartily as a rule — not 
as the Brownie was doing, with the tears streaming 
down her face, but each sob fought against and 
resisted. 

“ So,” said the Major at last, in an odd tone, 
cc Pinnock is an older friend, and you don’t want 
him superseded ! ” 

He looked down at the Brownie for an instant, 
then his eyes met Lallage Lorraine’s for one com¬ 
pelling moment. 

u Let her stick to her first love while she will, 





A Lonely Little Lady i 3 i 

Lallage ! ” he said, with a sudden energy of bitter¬ 
ness. “ Such constancy is not a very frequent 
feminine trait! ” 

Lady Lorraine’s eyes wavered and drooped. With 
an impulsive movement she knelt down beside the 
Brownie and drew her into her arms. “ Why, 
Brownie,” she said, with a curious quiver in her 
gay voice, <c what are all the tears about ? Of course 
you need n’t have the new kitten if you prefer your 
favourite cat. We will tell Lord Bertie not to 
send it.” 

She kept her lowly position on the rug in front of 
Major Maude, fondling the child in a restless, pre¬ 
occupied fashion, while the Brownie leaned against 
her, exhausted with the tempest of her tears and the 
sudden relief of finding that she had compassed 
Pinnock’s salvation. She was dreamily conscious of 
being grateful to Major Maude, too, as a factor in 
her success, and stretched out her hand to him, as he 
stood towering above them, looking down on the 
picture they made. He took the child’s hand in 
both of his and grasped it so tightly that he nearly 
made the Brownie cry out with pain. It was just 
at that moment, also, that Mamma kissed her 


132 A Lonely Little Lady 

almost passionately., and then, before her tired little 
brain could get clear of its bewilderment, Major 
Maude had stooped and somehow lifted them both 
up, and had taken the Brownie into his arms with 
her head lying wearily on his shoulder. But she 
was too faint and too giddy with the unlooked-for 
removal of her trouble to realise any more, and was 
half unconscious when the Major carried her up¬ 
stairs back to the nursery. She observed without 
understanding that Nurse and the under-housemaid 
eyed him oddly as he came in, and caught a scrap 
of conversation while she was undressed that night 
that made her wonder. 

“ That Major’s becoming something more than 
a tame cat about the house,” said Nurse, primming 
up her lips. 

“ Her maid says that he was something more than 
a tame cat before my lady married ! ” said Annie 
knowingly. “ She took the old man because of his 
title and the money, everybody knows that. And 
they do say — ” 

“Well,” said Nurse, with a vicious tweak to the 
Brownie’s nightgown, “ as long as it’s only say and 
not do y Annie, we may thank our stars ! But I 



9 99 






























































































































A Lonely Little Lady 135 

wonder as how her old lover can have the face to 
make a fuss with his child ! ” 

The Brownie’s brain was too tired to disentangle 
the pronouns: she hugged the rescued Master 
Pinnock and slept off her late anxiety. 

Lord Bertie must have been warned that his gift 
would be superfluous, for no unwelcome kitten made 
its appearance, nor did he himself refer to it when 
he met the Brownie at the Eton and Harrow 
Cricket match, as she had half feared that he would. 
The Brownie had never been to Lord’s before, and 
enjoyed it very much in a sedate and dignified 
fashion, all the more because the Duke and Duchess 
were present. True, Lord Bertie lingered near her 
party as much as possible, and was more audacious 
than ever in his efforts at flirtation, being on his own 
ground, so to speak. But as he was playing in the 
match, the Brownie was spared his society for part 
of the time. 

She was watching the game with grave interest, 
unheeding the chatter going on between her mother 
and sisters and the men who had escorted them, when 
she saw the Duke coming towards her with a boy of 
about eleven or twelve years. He was quite a nice 


136 A Lonely Little Lady 


boy, she decided at once, looking at his quizzical 
freckled face and red hair; he was not at all hand¬ 
some, like Lord Bertie for instance, but that was 
rather a recommendation in the Brownie’s eyes, and 
he was talking to the Duke with an unaffected eager¬ 
ness which attracted the Brownie. She regarded 
the couple with much interest. 

“ Hullo ! ” exclaimed the 
Duke, catching sight of her, 
“ how are you getting on. 
Brownie ? ” 

“ Very well, thank you, 
Duke,” replied the Brownie. 
<c Did n’t that last boy bowl 
well ? ” She was already 
profiting by her study of the 
game. 

“ First rate,” replied his 
Grace heartily. tc He is a 
friend of Bertie’s too. But 
Ready can tell you all about 
him — this is my nephew, 
Ethelred Laneton, of whom 
Ready, this is Miss Brownie 



“ HE WAS PLAYING IN 
THE MATCH.” 


I have told you. 
Lorraine ! ” 














1 37 


A Lonely Little Lady 

The boy pulled off his cap, but the Brownie held 
out her hand. “ I am very glad to know you,” she 
said, with her usual self-possession. “ I have heard 
about vou so often.” 

J 

The boy did not answer the courteous little 
speech, but stood looking rather embarrassed, after 
the manner of boys. But he remained beside the 
Brownie, even after the Duke moved away, and she 
hoped that he was inclined to be friendly. “ Are 
you playing in the match to-day? ” she asked, no¬ 
ticing that he wore the Eton colours. 

“ No, but my cousin is, Lord Bertie Errol,” said 
the boy, turning his bright face towards her. “ Do 
you like cricket ? ” 

“ Very much, but I ’ve never been to a match till 
now. 

“ You can’t play then ? ” he asked, with a some¬ 
what doubtful glance at her. 

The Brownie shook her head. “ I live in 
London,” she explained. “There wouldn’t be 
anywhere to play, even if they would let me.” 

“ My sisters can play —jolly well, too, for girls,” 
said Ready with off-hand acknowledgment. “ And 
Reine Errol used, only she’s getting too young- 


138 A Lonely Little Lady 


ladyish now, and is afraid to run. Do you know 
her ? ” 

“ Yes; at least I Ve seen her. She came to my 

party,” said the Brownie. Then 
she added rather shyly, “ I wish 
you had come too ! ” 

“ I ’m not much good at danc¬ 
ing,” said Ready, but he looked 
pleased. “ Bertie’s the chap for 
that. He waltzes better than half 
the big fellows.” 

“ I know,” said the Brownie 
quietly. “ Lord Bertie often 
comes to see us.” 

“ I suppose you think no end 
of him. All girls do,” said Ready 
in a conclusive tone. He did 
not seem to set much value on 
feminine preference himself. 

4< she was watching u I like you better! ” said the 

THE GAME WITH r 1 1 

,, Brownie rranklv. 

GRAVE INTEREST. J 

“ Oh, come now! ” said the 
boy, laughing and reddening. “Don’t try to gull 
me like that! ” 

































A Lonely Little Lady 139 

The Brownie was rather distressed. She did not 
know what “ gull ” meant, but she saw that he did 
not believe her. 

“ Lord Bertie always talks as if he were grown 
up,” she explained in self-defence. “It’s so silly, 
because he is n’t.” 

“Well, most girls think it’s a fine thing to be 
grown up,” Ready said. He agreed with the 
Brownie in his heart, but he was bound to defend 
his kinsman. “Would n’t you like to be a young 
lady and go to balls every night and not do lessons ? 
Come now! ” 

“ I’d rather be a child ! ” said the Brownie, who 
had never been allowed to be one. 

Ready stared at her. “Well, you are a queer 
little girl! ” he remarked with open amusement. 

The Brownie sighed. “That’s just what every¬ 
body says,” she thought. “ They all laugh at me, 
but I don’t see how I can be any different.” 

“ Are you coming to Coombe Weald this year ? ” 
asked the boy. “Aunt Mary is awfully fond of 
you, I know, and so is Uncle Tom.” 

“ I don’t know. The Duchess has n’t asked 
me,” said the Brownie; but there was distinct hope 


I 4.0 


A Lonely Little Lady 

in her tone. She usually spent a month or so at 
the seaside while Mamma and everybody else went 
abroad, during which period Nurse spent half her 
time in frustrating the Brownie’s aspirations after 
crabs, and nipping all friendships in the bud which 
her charge tried to begin with other children. The 
thought of Coombe Weald and its party of young 
people, with the Duke and Duchess for her host 
and hostess, sounded to the Brownie like a dream 
of happiness too great to be realised. 

“ Oh, I expect they ’ll ask you,” said Ready. 
“ Look here, if you come I *11 teach you to play 
cricket! But you must n’t mind a few knocks.” 

“ Oh, thank you ! ” said the Brownie gratefully. 
“ I should n’t mind the knocks at all.” She parted 
with Ready quite regretfully — it was he who held 
out his hand this time — and told the Duke after¬ 
wards that she liked him very much. 

“ I wish he would come sometimes with Lord 
Bertie,” she said. 

“ Ready does n’t get so many holidays as Bert,” 
said the Duke drily. “ He’s got a father who pre¬ 
fers him to stick to his books in Term, and gives 
him a good time in Vac. Laneton is a sensible 



A Lonely Little Lady 141 

man. Never mind, my dear, you shall see Ready 
again some day.” 

The Brownie was left wondering why a short¬ 
sighted Providence had deprived Lord Bertie of a 
father. “ Perhaps,” she thought charitably, “ it is 
that that makes him so very nasty ! ” And she was 
more attentive than ever to Sir Charles that day. 


CHAPTER VI 



AURA came back from her 
visit triumphant. She was 
Jlll^engaged to the Hon. 

Elliot Gifford, and now 
there were two future brothers 
to claim privileges from the 
Brownie. The Hon. Elliot was 
as often at the house as Lord 
Bay, but the Brownie found 
it easier to get on with him. 
He was very tall and compact, and he almost in¬ 
variably wore a very long frock-coat which fitted 
him closely, and a high white collar which threatened 
to cut his head off. The Brownie used to wonder 
if the collar were the cause of his speaking very 
slowly and saying “ er ” between his words a good 
deal. He generally smiled at her as if he found 
her as great an entertainment as every one else did; 
but his sense of humour lay chiefly in talking to her 
very gravely on learned subjects, which he chose 















A Lonely Little Lady 143 

intentionally to be over her head, and then detail¬ 
ing her replies for the benefit of the company after¬ 
wards, and the Brownie found this preferable to 
Lord Bay’s incessant banter. The Hon. Elliot 
had just received an appointment in the Diplomatic 
Service which would take him abroad, and he 
wanted to be married immediately and to take his 
wife out with him; so it was arranged that there should 
be a double wedding, and Belle and Laura would leave 
their home together. The Brownie was to be Belle’s 
chief bridesmaid, which entailed more trying on and 
planning of costumes, and as she could not fulfil the 
same office for Laura, Elliot’s sister undertook it. 
Miss Gifford was grown up, but Laura preferred 
her to having another child to match her step-sister. 

“As I can’t have the Brownie,” she said, “I 
won’t put up with a mere imitation! ” The Brownie 
was happiest just about this time when she was 
safely out of the dressmakers’ hands and had done 
with Miss Price, for then came her daily ride in the 
Park on the brown pony — named “Prince Ritto ” 
after her father’s other gift — during which she 
generally met the Duke. His Grace rode a big bay 
horse which he told the Brownie was a “ weight 



144 A Lonely Little Lady 

carrier,” and it was a fine sight to see the burly 
gentleman with the little girl beside him, both en¬ 
grossed in each other and the exercise to the exclu¬ 
sion of the outside world. The Duke gave the 
Brownie many hints, too, which helped wonderfully, 
for he was an authority on equine subjects and a 
Master of Hounds to boot. 

She generally told Sir Charles about her morning 
ride when she met him at tea-time lingering about 
the hall, though it had grown far too hot for a great¬ 
coat, and there was no occasion for her to help him. 

cc I met Lord Bay this morning,” she said, about 
a week before the weddings, “ and he rode with me 
for some time, asking me about the presents for the 
bridesmaids. He wanted me to decide: do you 
think it would be in good taste? ” 

She spoke with perfect clearness and deliberation, 
bringing out the phrase in a way which made Sir 
Charles open his eyes. 

“ Why should n’t it be ? ” he asked. “ Have n’t 
you good taste ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t mean that ! ” said the Brownie. 

“ I daresay I could decide as well as Lady Alice or 
Miss Gifford. Only, you see, I’m the littleist 


A Lonely Little Lady 14.5 

bridesmaid though I ’m the chiefest, and I thought 
perhaps they ought to have first choice.” 

“Oh, I see.” A smile was gathering among the 
wrinkles of Sir Charles’ face as he contemplated the 
“ chiefest bridesmaid ” before him. “ Well, I think 
as Bay left it to you to decide you had better do 
as he asked you. What would you rather have 
yourself? ” 

“Well, I’d rather have a ring, but Belle says 
that’s rather unusual for the bridegroom to give. 
If I can’t have that, I think I should like a brooch 
— you see, I have so many bangles already ! ” 

The Brownie sighed as if the weight of her pos¬ 
sessions rather distressed her, and Sir Charles sighed 
also as his gaze rested on her grave little face. 

“ Don’t you have any dolls? ” he said. “ Chil¬ 
dren generally like dolls better than trinkets — or 
they should do.” 

“ I expect it’s c should ’ then,” said the Brownie 
wisely. “ Of course I would rather have the ban¬ 
gles than toys — they ’re real, and the others are 
not. There are a lot of dolls up in the nursery ; 
they are beautiful dolls, and I used to play with 
them when I was quite little, but I have n’t cared 


10 



146 A Lonely Little Lady 

about them much since I had Pinnock, and I like 
reading better.” 

There was a minute’s pause, while Sir Charles 
put a hesitating hand on her head and touched her 
hair awkwardly, as if the sensation of offering any 
caress were strange to him. 

“ The Duke sent his love to you ! ” said the 
Brownie suddenly. 

“ Eh ? ” said Sir Charles, starting. 

“I saw him quite at the end, just before we left 
the Park,” explained the Brownie. “We were 
waiting for the Princess. He said, £ Remember me 
to your father,’ so I suppose he meant me to give 
you his love.” 

“ Thank you very much,” said Sir Charles 
gravely. “ It was very kind of him. Did you 
see the Princess ? ” 

“ Oh yes, and I was so glad ! Is n’t she pretty ? 
I am never tired of seeing the Princess. I always 
pray for her and the Prince once a week.” 

“ That is very loyal of you,” said Sir Charles in 
a puzzled tone ; “ but why once a week ? ” 

“ Because they are not special friends — I mean 
I don’t know them personally. So I just put them 


A Lonely Little Lady 14.7 

in on Tuesdays. Wednesday is my c acquaintance ’ 
day, and I keep Friday for the servants. Of course 
my special friends come in every time.” 

“ But I don’t see why you should pray for the 
Prince and Princess in particular ! ” 

“ Well, you see, of course they are prayed for 
twice in church, but by the time we get to them in 
the prayers most people are so tired that they just 
say c Amen ! ’ without thinking about it, so it can’t 
do much good. And it’s not much better in the 
Litany. So I thought if I just said an extra 
prayer for them when I was n’t so tired that it 
might be better.” 

<c What a very curious idea ! ” said Sir Charles 
blankly. 

The Brownie was, as a fact, rather fond of going 
to church. Not that she was a very religious child, 
for beyond the usual curriculum which is taught to 
children she had had no one to impress her with 
the idea of the Deity. She knew that Mamma 
liked to find her kneeling in her nightgown and say¬ 
ing her prayers aloud, and had once or twice brought 
visitors up at the right moment to see, as if it were 
part of the daily show of her life. It had rather 


148 A Lonely Little Lady 

grated on the Brownie’s good taste and sense of 
the fitness of things, for if she had but little affec¬ 
tion for her God, she had a distinct reverence for 
Him, and unbounded confidence in His power to 
“make her a good child, and keep Pinnock safe.” 
She had read her Bible, and knew her Catechism, 
and was chiefly struck by the terrible punishments 
which appeared to follow on the slightest trans¬ 
gressions, and the impossible things which were 
promised by one’s godfathers and godmothers. But, 
after her usual fashion, she puzzled silently, and 
expressed her doubts to no one. Nurse took her 
to church on Sundays, but the Brownie had soon 
discovered that she was incapable of answering any 
questions propounded about the service. So the 
child sank back into herself, and enjoyed the quiet 
and the hush of the sacred place, the beauty of 
the stained windows, and above all the music. She 
grew unconsciously to think that the form of wor¬ 
ship did not much matter after all, so long as the 
atmosphere of sacredness was there, and would not 
have disturbed herself if Nurse had taken her to a 
Synagogue or a Mosque. 

She found the important day of the weddings 






























































































































































A Lonely Little Lady 151 

somewhat of a trial to her feelings, for though she 
did not consider it wicked to talk out loud in 
church, she did consider it inappropriate. She 
was dressed before her step-sisters, of course, and 
driven to the church with three other of the brides¬ 
maids who were all grown up. They chattered 
and laughed on the way there, after the manner of 
girls, and the Brownie sat still and smiled at them 
when they spoke to her; but she was momentarily 
surprised to find that the chattering still continued 
in church. The bridesmaids took their usual posi¬ 
tion each side of the aisle near the door, with the 
Brownie heading one long line and the Hon. Vera 
Gifford the other; but after a few minutes the bride¬ 
grooms appeared with their best men, and came 
down the church to talk to them. 

“ You had better come up the aisle and speak to 
your friends, Brownie,” Elliot said, smiling. u I 
know enough of these ceremonies not to expect 
Laura to arrive yet awhile ! ” 

“ Yes, come along,” added Lord Bay. cc Bertie 
is nearly breaking his heart with impatience to speak 
to you.” 

“ I think I had better not move,” said the Brownie 


i 52 A Lonely Little Lady 

gently. You see I must be in my place when they 
! yy 

come ! 

“ Look here, we ’ll station Curties at the door to 
look out for the carriage, and he shall rush up and 
tell us when it is coming,” Lord Bay suggested, 
seizing on a youth who was looking rather lost. 
“ Curties, you go out into the porch and look for 
the brides’ carriage, and let us know. Come along, 
Brownie ! ” and whether she would or no the 
Brownie was carried off up the aisle to find herself 
in a perfect crush of people she knew. 

a What a lovely frock ! ” one lady said to her. 
“ Are n’t you afraid of moving lest you should 
hurt it ? ” 

The Brownie looked down at the thick, rich folds 
crusted with pearl embroidery. “ I never think of 
it,” she said simply. 

It was quite true ; she was too used to silk, 
stockings and white slippers — even when pearl- 
embroidered — and beautiful materials for her frocks, 
to give them more than a passing thought; and 
even the tiny cap with its network of pearls, which 
her mother had chosen in preference to a more 
ordinary head-gear, did not feel very strange. It 



“ IT WAS VERY DIFFICULT TO AVOID TRIPPING OVER BELLE’S TRAIN.” 



































A Lonely Little Lady 155 

was rather mediaeval, certainly, and at first the 
Brownie could not rid herself of a fear that it 
would slip off, so lost was it amongst her curly 
hair, but she soon forgot it. 

“Who gave you your bouquet?” Lord Bertie 
asked, with real or pretended jealousy in his voice. 

“ Mr. Elliot,” said the Brownie quietly. “ He 
gave all Belle’s bridesmaids their bouquets, and 
Lord Bay gave all Laura’s. Of course each bride¬ 
groom gives the presents to the bridesmaids who 
belong to his own bride, though.” 

“ When are you going to be a bride, Brownie ? ” 
asked another lady, laughing. “ You and Lord 
Bertie make a nice pair.” 

The Brownie moved a step away from the boy 
beside her with instinctive repugnance, but he did 
not seem to mind. 

“ Oh, she is not to be teased about that yet! ” 
he said with his superior smile — the Brownie hated 
that smile — a we understand each other, don’t we, 
Brownie ? ” 

“ Look here,” interposed Lord Bay, coming up 
to them, cc if Belle is much later I shall marry the 
Brownie! Do you hear, Brownie? We will wait 


156 A Lonely Little Lady 

five minutes more, and then you will come up to 
the altar with me instead ! ” 

He took out his watch and pretended to regard 
it with a frown, which made the Brownie faintly 
anxious. Of course he was joking, but there were 
such things as child-marriages in India, and — 

“ But they seemed quite ready when I started ! ” 
she said earnestly, and again every one laughed. 

“ She does n’t care for the offer, Bay ! ” one man 
said ; and another added, “ Make a run for it when 
you see the Bishop opening his book, Miss Brownie ; 
we’ll help you through.” 

“Well, remember—” began Lord Bay; but to 
the Brownie’s relief he was interrupted by Mr. 
Curties rushing up the aisle to summon her. 

And then there was a crash as the organ struck 
up, and the Brownie saw Belle coming in on Sir 
Charles’ arm, while the Anglo-Indian uncle whom 
she hardly knew followed with Laura, and the 
bridesmaids turned and fell in behind them, follow¬ 
ing slowly to the chancel. It was very difficult to 
avoid tripping over Belle’s train, and still more so 
to reach and take the great white bouquet which 
she had to hold during the service in addition to 




A Lonely Little Lady 157 


her own. It seemed so much more impressive and 
important to her than it appeared to do to any one 
else ; in the vestry she was serious and even more 
thoughtful than usual, while the people who crowded 
round the brides laughed and chatted loudly, as if 
they were at a fashionable “ At Home,” until Lord 
Bay, detecting a small figure behind Belle, caught 
her up in his arms triumphantly. 

“ Here’s our good fairy 
— our Brownie,” he said, 
laughing. “ We ought to 
call you the Mascot, you 
elf! I feel sure you bring 
good luck.” 

The Brownie wondered 
if anything so small and j t 
joyless as herself could 
bring happiness to any¬ 
body. She was rather de¬ 
pressed at the idea of losing 
Belle and Laura, and when 
she was riding back to her 

father’s house in a carriage containing her mother and 
Major Maude and Archie, she hardly spoke at all. 



“ ‘ HERE S OUR GOOD FAIRY. 






























158 A Lonely Little Lady 


The wedding-breakfast took the usual modern 
form of long refreshment-tables, with the servants 
ranged behind them serving out champagne and 
sandwiches, rich sweets and galantines, to the 
hungry crowd who pushed backwards and forwards. 
The Brownie found her father and the Duke in a 
corner eating chicken rissoles in a most unassuming 
manner, and as she came up she heard Sir Charles 
say,— 

“ Two-thirds of the people do not know who I 
am, I am thankful to say, so it is possible that I 
may get something to eat in peace. It is a great 
thing to be the host on a day like this, Ros- 
borough: one is absolutely the least important 
person present.” 

The Brownie hoped that she would be allowed to 
remain with them, but it was not long before Lord 
Bertie pursued and captured her with a message 
from Mamma—she was to join the bridal party, 
who were quite at the farther end of the room. She 
followed the boy reluctantly, and he guided her to 
a small table where much fun and merriment seemed 
to be going on. Mamma was there and Major 
Maude, both the brides and bridegrooms, and Archie 


A Lonely Little Lady 

as well, and the Brownie was immediately intro¬ 
duced into the charmed circle and told that she 
was to eat something or she would be faint. 

“ Well, what do you think of weddings, Brownie?” 
Archie asked. He had taken his step-sister on 
his knee, and was feeding her with chicken and 
champagne. 

“They are rather noisy,” said the Brownie, paus¬ 
ing to look at the greedy crowd round them. 
“ Please, I really can’t eat any more ! ” 

“ Then you must have some cake,” put in Belle. 
“You must taste the cake, you know. Lionel, 
please get Brownie some cake.” 

“ I hope she won’t be ill to-morrow,” said Lady 
Lorraine. “To do her justice, she never does 
make herself sick with sweets like other children ; 
but I don’t think she cares for them much.” 

“ I have so many, you see,” said the Brownie 
absently. She was hardly attending, for she had 
caught a scrap of conversation between two elderly 
gentlemen behind her that interested her far more. 

“ Lorraine is safe to get it some time, if only on 
account of those public libraries at Market Liddis- 
combe and Lundy.” 


160 A Lonely Little Lady 


« 


a 


“Has he endowed them ? ” said the other. “I 
didn’t know. Well, it’s a public-spirited thing, 
anyway.” 

“ I was surprised that he was not amongst those 
who received Birthday Honours,” said the first 
voice. “ But perhaps there is a bigger plum wait¬ 
ing at the end of the session. He is well in with 
this Government.” 

It will be a barony, I suppose ? ” 

An earldom possibly — I doubt his taking a 
barony. The title is not a new one as it stands.” 

It was not very intelligible to the Brownie, but 
she recognised the phrase “ Birthday Honours” as 
one her father had used before, and about which 
she had since asked the Duke, who had explained 
it to her. Was it possible that Sir Charles was 
going to be made a kind of duke, like the poor 
tradesmen’s sons in the fairy stories who were 
suddenly transformed into princes? How pleased 
Mamma would be ! She was so taken up with the 
idea that she hardly noticed when Belle and Laura 
went to change their dresses, and forgot to snub 
Lord Bertie, who was making the most of his 
chances and taking fearful liberties. She roused 



A Lonely Little Lady 161 

herself, however, when her step-sisters came down, 
and every one began pelting the unfortunate pairs 
with rice, after the insane fashion of wedding-guests. 

“Good-bye, Brownie. You must be our very 
first visitor,” Belle said fondly, holding the child 
affectionately in her arms. 

She was the more emo¬ 
tional of the two elder 
girls; but they had both 
been very kind always, 
without either of them 
taking the trouble to think 
that comprehension and 
sympathy are sometimes 
more valued than mere << some one threw a white 
indulgence. SLIPPER AFTER THEM ” 

The Brownie choked down the lump in her 
throat, and hugged the new Countess in silence. 

“ I hope you will be very happy,” she whispered 
at last, with unchildlike earnestness. “ And you 
too, Laura.” 

“ Good-bye, pet,” Laura answered. “Take care 
of Papa for us.” 

And then Elliot, with an unusual demonstration 















162 A Lonely Little Lady 

of affection, took the Brownie in his arms — she 
was quite awed by such a near view of his immac¬ 
ulate collar—and Lord Bay turned back again 
from the door to kiss the serious little face again 
and tell her to “ Cheer up ! — he was going to bring 
Belle back soon.” And the carriage doors were 
shut, and some one threw a white slipper after them, 
and Belle and Laura were gone. 

With the last glimpse of the two pretty faces still 
before her mental vision, the Brownie turned back 
into the hall. There was a queer empty feeling 
about her, as if she had lost something that could 
never return. 

<£ It won’t ever be quite the same,” she thought. 

The guests were leaving; people stood in little 
groups laughing and talking. The Brownie saw 
her mother and Major Maude standing apart, and 
went up to them. 

“ I hate weddings,” her mother was saying, with 
a subdued energy which startled the Brownie. “ It 
takes me back so vividly — ” 

“We are going forward now — downhill very 
fast! ’ he answered, in a curious, reckless voice. 
“ For God’s sake, Lallage, don’t look back — 


A Lonely Little Lady 163 

unless It be to the time when you were mine 
before ! ” 

Some one came up to bid Lady Lorraine good¬ 
bye and congratulate her on the way the double 
wedding had gone off. The Brownie drew back 
frightened and wondering. There was a sense of 
loneliness and danger in the air already. 


CHAPTER VII 



FTER Belle and Laura had 
gone the house seemed to fall 
gj into a brooding quiet that 
had no rest in it. It was 
like a lull before a storm, 
and yet there was no reason to expect a storm. 
The season was nearly over, and there were fewer 
visitors, but Parliament was not prorogued until 
the beginning of August, so Sir Charles Lorraine’s 
household remained in town, Lady Lorraine having 
nearly as many engagements as in May or June, 
for Society still seemed loth to call “ Hold-enough ! ” 
and retire to the country or the Continent. 

It was hot, enervating weather during the end of 
July and the beginning of August, and the Brownie 
began to feel limp and tired. Even her rides in 
the Park fatigued her, and her daily visits to the 
drawing-room became more and more of a penance. 
She looked forward to the moment when every one 













A Lonely Little Lady 165 

should have left but Major Maude, who came 
almost daily now and outstayed the other visitors, 
for then she knew that she could sit quiet and not 
be expected to talk. Mamma had made her under¬ 
stand, in her own occult fashion, that she was to 
remain as long as Major Maude was there, though 
why her presence should be necessary the Brownie 
did not make the effort to think; they did not 
speak to her much, though they talked and argued 
with each other in the same incomprehensible way 
before her; but sometimes she did not even stay 
near them. The drawing-room opened into a 
large conservatory, and the Brownie strayed in there 
aimlessly, and made up stories for herself about the 
flowers. She had invented a romance between the 
white lily at the far end and the great palm next it: 
the lily was an enchanted princess, and the palm 
the prince, and it seemed to the Brownie that with 
each new bud the lily opened her beauty increased 
and the palm fell more in love. His large fan¬ 
shaped leaves were like hands spread out in wonder. 
She used to reach up and bend them towards each 
other until their leaves touched. “ Now they will 
be happy for one day ! ” she said to herself. 


166 A Lonely Little Lady 

She was dreaming about them in her usual way 
one evening when she heard something that caught 
her attention in the room behind her. The other 
callers had all left, for it was getting on for seven 
o’clock, and only Major Maude remained; but 
could that be his voice raised to such imperative 
passion ? She turned and fled back into the draw¬ 
ing-room with her heart beating quickly. The hot 
weather and want of change had overstrung her 
nerves, and she was unreasonably startled. 

Her mother was standing in the middle of the 
room with her hand pressed over her heart against 
a cluster of roses which were fastened into her 
gown : the Brownie noticed how she was crushing 
the flowers and longed to go and pull her hand 
away. Her eyes looked larger than usual, and 
bright with excitement, and her breath came quickly. 
The Major faced her; his face was very pale, and 
he was speaking with terrible and forcible distinct¬ 
ness. 

“We have drifted far enough!” he was saying. 
“We cannot draw back now. In Heaven’s name, 
Lallage, be truthful with me! Own that you 


care — 


A Lonely Little Lady 167 


“ How dare you ! ” the Brownie’s mother broke 
in breathlessly. “ How dare you suggest this — 
this thing to me ! Because I have been friendly 
with you — I have let you come here — you reward 
me like this ! ” 

Her voice broke with a sob, but her eyes were 
brighter than ever. Neither of them seemed to 
notice the small figure that hovered near them, 
quivering with a fear she could not explain. 

“ Lallage, you must listen to 
me ! ” Major Maude went on 

earnestly, moving a ^ 

« \xt - - 

step nearer. “We 

cannot go on like this. Will 
you take this one final step ? 

If I ask much of you, I am 
offering you my life itself in 
compensation. Come ! come 
to me ! I — ” 

“ Stop! ” answered Lady Lor¬ 
raine’s voice, but the Brownie 

hardly recognised it. “ Leave « brownie fled head¬ 



long FROM THE ROOM 


me now, and never mention 
this to me again. When you come to your senses 





168 A Lonely Little Lady 


M .1 


— when you feel that you have made a 
mistake — you may come back — not 

before.” 

What was it in the 
words that did not 
ring true ? Lallage 
Lorraine had never 
been more beautiful 
than at that moment 
as she stood pointing 
to the door, a model 
of insulted dignity 

“her mother was singing.” a nd injuied innocence. 

And yet it was like a 
scene in a play : she was too conscious of the good 
effect of her own attitude to convict even herself, 
and she seemed to feel that she was on the stage. 
Somehow the child listening knew that the man 
would not take such a dismissal even before he 
spoke. 

“ If I go,” he said slowly, with a look in his face 
that made the woman shrink as if he had gripped 
hold of her, “ I shall go for good — or bad. If you 
send me away now, and tell me to come back only 






















A Lonely Little Lady 169 

as a friend, I shall never come back. You have 
played fast and loose with me long enough. It must 
be all or nothing.” There came a pause. “ Well ? ” 
he said, “ am I to go ? ” 

Lady Lorraine bent her head as if in silent assent. 
She kept her head bent so that her face was hidden. 
After a second Major Maude drew a deep breath 
and squared his shoulders, tramping across the room 
and out of the door. The Brownie stood as if 
paralysed, listening to his steps all down the corri¬ 
dor. Suddenly her mother threw up her head with 
a gasping sob and caught sight of her standing 
there. A change came over her face — a flash like 
desperate hope across her look of miserable despair. 

“ Here ! ” she said hoarsely, “ quick! take this — 
follow him — catch him. Go quickly — do you 
hear ? ” She dragged a rose out of her gown as she 
spoke; the thorns tore her hand, but she did not 
seem to feel them. The Brownie saw the crimson 
blood well up and fall on to the crimson petals as 
she took it, and shuddered. “Run — tell him I 
will do anything he wishes — the rose is with my 
love.” 

She pushed the child roughly forward so that she 


170 A Lonely Little Lady 

almost fell, and the Brownie fled headlong from the 
room, down the corridor and across the hall. Major 
Maude had his hand on the door — the servants had 
heard no bell, and were not there to open it for him 
— when the rush of light feet arrested him. 

“Mamma sends you this — with her love — she 
will do anything you want!” the Brownie panted, 
desperate with the feeling that she had nearly been 
too late. He looked down at the blood-stained 
flower thrust into his hand, and at the child’s pure 
face lifted to his. 

“ Brownie ! ” he stammered. “ You ! ” and then 
a leisurely tread was heard approaching — one of 
the footmen was crossing the hall—and Major 
Maude opened the door hurriedly and went, closing 
it behind him with an unusual caution as if he shut 
the door of a room where some one lay dead. 

The Brownie turned away also and went slowly 
upstairs, clinging to the banisters. She did not 
know why she did not return to the drawing-room, 
but as she reached the head of the flight she stopped 
short and listened blankly. 

The drawing-room was open, and her mother was 
singing. There came a rush and ripple of notes, and 



A Lonely Little Lady 17 i 

then a voice so wildly gay that it sounded in some 
strange fashion infinitely sad. 

“ Dites, la jeune belle, 

Ou voulez-vous aller ? ” 

sang Mamma. The Brownie wondered how she 
could sing, and the notes followed her up to the 
nursery. 

“ Menez-moi, dit la belle, 

A la rive fidele 

Ou Pon aime toujours ! 

Cette rive, ma chere. 

On ne la connait guerre 
Au pays des amours! ” 

The days that followed were more airless and de¬ 
pressing still. The Brownie was listless and nervous ; 
she started at a slight noise, and was so white and 
heavy-eyed that on several occasions Miss Price 
cleared her throat and said, “ I think, my dear 
Hero, it would be well to rest awhile now. You 
appear to have a headache,” which surprised her 
pupil in a dull fashion, but she was too thankful for 
the unusual relaxation to raise questions. 

The heat seemed to culminate one breathless day 
in August. The air felt like thunder ; there was no 
sun, but a dull, lurid sky stretched overhead with- 


172 


A Lonely Little Lady 

out a break in the pall of cloud. The Brownie’s 
head had really ached all day, and when Miss Price 
left her she sat down by the open window too weary 
to even read. Pinnock came and stretched himself 
across her knees — he seemed to feel that to curl 
himself up tightly was impossible in such weather — 
and the Brownie stroked him dreamily, gazing down 
into the dusty road beneath, and soothing herself 
unconsciously with the touch of his warm, supine 
body. She was glad of his company, for her nerves 
were on edge; she almost jumped when Annie 
brought in the tray with her supper, and whispered 
fragments of conversation between her and Nurse 
struck upon her ears as if she had an extra power 
of hearing. 

“ Martin saw it in the paper to-night” — Martin 
was the butler. “ It’ll be in the Times to-morrow.” 

. . . “ What ’ll my lady say ? ” . . . “ A Countess! 

. . . as grand as Miss Belle ’erself . . . think of 
that! ” . . . “ My ! won’t she be pleased! . . . 
But *itn to be Lord Chateris ! my word, he did n’t 
look much like c Sir Charles ’ even My 

lady ’ll make him live up to the position.” . . . 
“ Perhaps now she won’t think so much of the 




1 73 


A Lonely Little Lady 

,M£ 

other” — this from Nurse. “High time his nose 

was put out of joint! . . . and all the world 
talking! ” 

Then the voices sank so low that the whispers 
were almost inaudible; but as Annie left the room 
she said, “ They are going out together to-night, I 
know, because Thomas is n’t to take the carriage to 
fetch her home.” 

“Well, that’s no 
proof,” said Nurse 
unguardedly aloud. 

“Yes, it is. Major 
Maude often sees 
her home when they 
go to the same house. 

They drive back to¬ 
gether.” 

The sentences rang in the Brownie’s ears all 
night. “Lord Chateris — He didn’t look much 
like Sir Charles — Won’t my lady be pleased P — 
Major Maude often sees her home — And all the 
world talking ! ” And through it all she dozed 
lightly, or tossed to and fro, too hot to sleep, and 
listening, she did not know why, for the slam of the 



“THE BROWNIE ATE HER BREAKFAST 
UNDISTURBED.” 










174 A Lonely Little Lady 

hall door which should mean that her mother had 
returned. 

She rose heavy-eyed and white in the morning. 
She was thinking of the announcement which was to 
be in the Times that day, and was too preoccupied 
to notice Nurse’s manner as she dressed her. The 
woman’s hands trembled, she sniffed suspiciously 
once or twice, and glanced at the Brownie oddly, 
as though she had gained a new personality and 
interest. 

The Brownie ate her breakfast undisturbed, how¬ 
ever ; Miss Price usually arrived as the clock struck 
ten, but it chimed a quarter past — half past — a 
quarter to eleven, and still she had not made her 
appearance. At eleven o’clock the Brownie was 
suddenly conscious of a stir in the house; people 
moved to and fro, doors banged; then several of 
the housemaids came into the nursery — an un¬ 
precedented event. They gathered round Nurse 
and began a confused babble of questions and 
answers. Nobody took any notice of the Brownie. 
She stood in the background, listening and piecing 
the sentences together, for all caution was set aside 
now, and there were no lowered voices. 




* WOULD YOU PLEASE TELL ME,’ SAID THE BROWNIE, ‘ WHAT 
YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT?’ ” 


























A Lonely Little Lady 177 

“ Nobody dare go near him since they took him 
her letter!” one of the maids said in awestruck 
tones. “ He is quite alone — not in his study — 
in the dining-room. Every one has been turned 
away from the door— Martin had his orders as 
soon as it was known that she was gone.” 

Suddenly a child’s clear voice broke in on their 
chattering. 

“ Would you please tell me,” said the Brownie, 
“ what you are talking about ? ” 

In an instant there was dead silence. The group 
parted and fell back on either side, the servants 
forming a half ring and facing the child, who stood 
with unconscious dignity before them. Some looked 
simply blank, some dism ayed, some ashamed. At last 
Nurse spoke, with an effort, after her usual manner. 

“ Miss ’ero, my dear,” she said, with sudden 
pompousness, cc you must n’t ask questions. Your 
Mamma has gone away for ever, and you must 
never speak of her again.” 

The great brown eyes were lifted to her face with 
embarrassing effect. “Will you kindly tell me,” 
repeated the Brownie patiently, “ what you were 
talking about ? Where is Mamma gone ? ” 


12 



178 A Lonely Little Lady 

“She’s gone — ” Nurse’s brief authority sud¬ 
denly deserted her, and she dwindled into the or¬ 
dinary domestic. Unconsciously her voice took the 
tone she used to her mistress. cc She has run away 
with Major Maude,” she said, stopping neither to 
explain nor soften her words. 

The Brownie looked round the ring of faces. 
God alone knew what insight came into her childish 
mind to unravel the meaning of that “gone for 
ever — gone with Major Maude,” but after a second 
she turned away with mingled pride and despair in 
her small face. 

“Where is my father?” she said quietly. At 
least that much she comprehended, that they were 
left alone together. 

“In the dining-room, Miss. But — ” It was 
one of the housemaids who tried to interpose. 

“Let me go, please,” said the child simply; and 
as they drew back, instinctively recognising a stronger 
will, she walked past them and out of the nursery 
for ever. An invisible barrier fell before her as she 
took her freedom in her own hands, and the limits 
of her childhood seemed to be left behind upon that 
upper landing. The Brownie’s years only numbered 


f'OTJ'jp "—£^T 



>> 


“ THERE WAS A LONG SILENCE 
















































A Lonely Little Lady 181 

eight, but she was a woman in authority as she went 
slowly down the staircase and straight on to the 
dining-room. 

The blinds were not drawn; a great bowl of 
flowers stood on the table bathed in the flaccid 
August sunshine ; everything was as usual. There 
was nothing to suggest that a tragedy had taken 
place, unless it were that stooping figure in the arm¬ 
chair by the fireplace. There was more than age 
there, and yet the sight of it brought the Duke’s 
motto to the Brownie’s remembrance — she could 
not have told why — “ Fleetly non frangi” ; it came 
to her like a pang of hope. 

She went across the room lightly — her step had 
not the patter of most children’s — and drawing her 
father’s hands away from his face, she climbed on 
to his knee and put her arms round his neck. And 
then there was a long silence while the man laid his 
grey head down against the child’s breast, as if their 
positions were reversed and it was her place to guard 
and succour. 

The Brownie thought she must have been there 
quite ten minutes before she noticed Master Pin- 
nock. She supposed he had followed her out of the 



182 A Lonely Little Lady 

nursery and downstairs, for anyhow there he was, 
rubbing his head in his own particular fashion 
against his master’s foot. Sir Charles—he was 
Lord Chateris now — had not known that he pos¬ 
sessed a cat amongst his household, and possibly 
yesterday he would not have demurred if an edict 
had gone forth and one of the servants had promptly 
removed the intruder out of the room. But yester¬ 
day and to-day had been divided by a great gulf, 
and Master Pinnock had come to stay. He took 
to the alien atmosphere of the dining-room with his 
customary placidity, and stretching himself out 
before the empty grate, dreamed of the big fires 
which would blaze there in the winter. Half an 
hour afterwards the butler ventured to enter, and 
catching sight of the unusual spectacle was going 
to turn Master Pinnock out of the room with scant 
ceremony. The Brownie made an instinctive move¬ 
ment— it was not pronounced authority yet, but it 
was protest. 

“ Leave the cat alone,” Lord Chateris said, com¬ 
prehending her. Then he caught sight of Nurse’s 
face peering over the butler’s shoulder ; she had 
come in search of her charge out of custom. Her 



A Lonely Little Lady 183 

lips framed the 
words “ Shall I ” 

— without saying 
them. 

“ You can both 
of you go,” Lord 
Chateris said 
quietly. He also 
was master in his 
own house at last. 

“ Lady Hero will 
stay. 

As the servants left the room, and she tightened 
her clasp again round her father’s neck, the Brownie 
wondered for a second whom he meant. 



“HE CAUGHT SIGHT OF NURSE’S FACE. 


>> 


THE END. 





















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